


No Sacrifice, No Victory

by SunandShadowBoth



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adam takes shit from NO MAN, Aged-Up Character(s), Allura too tbh, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Drug Use, Emotional Abuse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Everyone's a mess tbh, F/M, Gay Keith (Voltron), Gay Shiro (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Keith & Shiro (Voltron) are Adoptive Siblings, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mutants, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shiro Adam and Keith as a Found Family, Shiro has kids, Slow Burn, X-men Inspired, and extensive history, but it is mainly Klance focused, everyone gets a backstory, lots and lots and LOTS of swearing, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2019-06-15 23:37:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 184,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15424152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunandShadowBoth/pseuds/SunandShadowBoth
Summary: When the G.A.L.R.A. attack mutant groups, Lance loses everything.His dreams, his family, his friends, his home.He drifts, after that. For years.Until a man with a ginger moustache finds him, dusts him off, and plops him back down right smack dab in the center of a dysfunctional team of mutants hell bent on regaining what the G.A.L.R.A. have taken from them.He doesn't know what it means to be a part of Voltron, not yet, but he does, in fact, know what the fire in those oh so familiar nearly-purple blue eyes means- things are about to get a little hotter than Lance might be prepared to handle.





	1. History in the Making

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Transformers, yes. I do not own it, or the characters of VLD, obviously! 
> 
> Strap in folks, this is going to be a long one. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are greatly, greatly appreciated.
> 
> Updates will be on Wednesdays and Saturdays!
> 
> Ages:  
> Pidge: 23  
> Lance & Hunk: 25  
> Keith: 26  
> Allura and Matt: 30  
> Shiro: 31

**Now:**

Lance stares at the ceiling. Water drips onto the bonds of his legs, but the power canceling cuffs make it impossible for him to do anything with it. He’s stuck, really and truly stuck.

How did he end up here? In a G.A.L.R.A. prison without his power, without the thing he’s hated for so long but wishes he has so desperately at this moment?

Everything’s hazy. He just wants to sleep, to forget about this like he's forgotten about everything else in his life, but as he lays back against the cool metal walls of his cell, his overactive brain won’t let him.

 

**Twenty Five Years Before:**

Lance wasn’t born a mutant.

Well, no that’s not exactly accurate, he must have been, but what he’s trying to say is that he wasn’t born with his powers, not like most of the others. He manifested them at the age of eleven and nothing has been the same since.

When mutants first began appearing in the human population, people became suspicious. And rightly so, because some who were born with this power used it for evil. But some, a larger part of the population, used them for good.

They were called heroes. They were paid for their work, became the new celebrities. They were adored and treated like almost like gods.

That was the world Lance McClain was born into. That was the world he’d aspired to be a part of as a young kid. His father was a mutant, and a pretty spectacular one. They’d had a comfortable life. A wonderful life. One in which Lance learned what it meant to be a hero, to be a mutant, to have powers and the responsibilities that came with it.

He’d been so pleased when he’d developed his abilities. Water manipulation, just like his dad. It was the perfect power to be a hero, for putting out fires and rescuing citizens and doing the job he was meant to do. He was _born_ to do.

Lance McClain might not have been born with his powers, but he _was_ born to be a hero.

 

**Seventeen Years Before:**

Before Lance developed powers, he had sensed something shifting in the world. He’d been too young then to know what it was, why his father always appeared so tired and haggard and frustrated with the world. He knows now that it’s because the public was slowly turning on the very heroes they had once adored. Politicians were beginning to notice that not only were crime rates staying steady, even with the help of the heroes, but damage costs had increased. More lives were being taken and the public was beginning to blame the heroes.

_Let the police handle it!_ Protestors shouted, _that’s why they’ve got those anti-mutant weapons, isn’t it? The heroes are just making things worse!_

Lance didn’t understand, couldn’t understand. His father was amazing, helping with even the smallest of tasks. He told Lance that a hero never shies away from someone in need, no matter how minuscule the deed.

Lance developed his powers. He’d been worried for a long time, worried that maybe he wasn’t ever going to be like his father, that he wasn’t ever going to follow in his family's footsteps, that he wasn’t going to be like Luis and Veronica his older siblings, who both had been born with mutations. Luis could hear really really well and Veronica could levitate a few inches off the floor.

Lance was just a late bloomer his Mami said, and ruffled his head. Marco, his little brother, hadn’t been born with powers either, but he didn’t want them. He was too little to know how amazing it was to be different.

He was swimming in their pool one hot summer afternoon when his brother threw a pool toy at his face. It almost connected to, if not for the wave of water that swarmed up to protect Lance. His brother had screamed and Lance had cried and his Mami had quietly explained that Lance was a mutant now, that he had power like his papa and he had to be careful.

His father began to train him that night. Out in the yard, in secret. He’d always hoped he’d go to a special school, with all the other mutant children in his town, where they learned to hone their abilities and become heroes, but his mother hadn’t let him. She told him he needed to stay where he was, at least until he finished middle school.

His parents made him hide his abilities. It had been hard at first, and he’d had to call in to school more times than he could count on days when his power was out of control, but his father taught him well. Soon he could be around as much water as he wanted without triggering his mutation. He could get angry and be happy and there wouldn’t even be a twinge from the surface of the pool.

Lance didn’t understand, not then, why they wanted him to keep it a secret. His sister thought it was because his parents wanted him to be able to have a secret identity when he got old enough to be a hero, but Lance wasn’t so sure. Veronica and Luis were allowed to use their powers in public, although Mami tried to keep that to a minimum as much as possible. Everyone already knew that the two eldest McClain children were mutants, so why couldn’t they know about Lance?

“Your powers different, _hermanito,”_ Veronica would say, patting his head gently before she tucked him in, “You’re strong. Luis and I, we don’t have the kind of powers that heroes have. Not the famous ones, anyway. But you, you’re going to be just like papi.”

Lance wasn’t so sure about that, but he knew better than to argue.

 

**Twelve Years Before:**

Lance was thirteen when the G.A.L.R.A. first began to appear in the news. The Guardians Against Latent and Recombinant Abominations were a small group, at least a first. They formed protests outside of major political buildings, demanding registration of all mutants, demanding that “normal” citizens be afforded more protection from those who were currently or who may become superhuman.

He can remember walking out of his house to find that signs had been placed out front, demanding that his father be subjected to regulations. That’s where it started, but it didn’t end there.

Laws were beginning to be passed that restricted heroes use of power. He can remember watching the television and seeing his father working alongside Takashi Shirogane, the air elemental, to put a fire out, only for the two of them to be dragged away from the scene in handcuffs. They’d let themselves be taken, refusing to put up a fight even as cameras were shoved in their faces and crowds jeered.

He cried that night. He was glad then, that his mother had forced him to be quiet about his abilities. He had them under control and they would remain that way.

They bailed his father out of jail. Lance’s mother argued with his father in the quiet of the middle of the night when she thought her children couldn’t hear, begging his father to quit, to run away while they still could.

Lance’s father had refused, something Lance still hasn’t quite forgiven him for.

 

**Eleven Years Before:**

He went to a normal high school. He didn’t fight his mother when she insisted, quietly enrolling him in Puig High just up the street from their home. Things were beginning to get rocky then, the beginning of the end, but high school Lance didn’t quite recognize it.

His first class of the day was English. He sat in the second row next to a kid named Hunk who was three inches taller than him and had the coolest sneakers. His moms bought them for him as a middle school graduation present and Lance was a little bit jealous. He and Hunk become close friends, and although Lance was allowed to go over to Hunk’s place all the time, Hunk was never allowed at his house. It wasn’t because of his parents, but because of Hunk’s, who wouldn’t really give him a reason why except, “It’s just not safe sweetie.”

He got a girlfriend within the first few months there, a girl named Jessica who had a cute button nose and freckles across her cheeks and he thought she might be the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. She kissed him even though she had braces and it cut his lip but he didn’t mind. Not really.

Lance liked nearly everyone in his class. Everyone except Keith, of course, who sat in the back  and fell asleep more often than not. He always had a red hoodie on and stupid fingerless gloves and he got to leave in the middle of the day sometimes. He still somehow ended up with high marks on every test and Lance just didn’t think that was fair. Everyone paid attention to Keith, made him seem like such the hero because he rode a motorcycle to school and stayed out past curfew and bought lunch every day, but that wasn’t what a hero was.

A hero was his dad, someone who helped people. So why was Keith getting all the attention and his father was being scorned? _Lance_ should be the popular one, _Lance_ should be the hero, but he couldn’t because everyone would be afraid of him if they knew.

He couldn’t even tell Hunk, his best friend.

How messed up was that?

 

**Ten Years Before:**

He broke up with Jessica sophomore year. She just wasn’t interesting to him anymore (or maybe it was that she wasn’t interested in _him)_  and besides, he’d found someone else - Hazel. Hazel had beautiful cocoa skin and dark deep eyes that Lance could get lost in. Her hair was curly and wonderful and they spent too many hours in the library studying while he twirled his fingers in it.

He had most of his classes with Hunk, which was a blessing because he also had them with Keith. The other boy hardly said a word to him, but Lance disliked him all the more. He was so… ‘mysterious’ and even Hazel talked about him much too often for Lance’s comfort. To Lance, there was just something off about him, something that didn’t sit right in Lance’s stomach.

But Lance didn’t have much time to worry about Keith because that was the year his father got fired from his hero job. And Lance’s mother had to find work. No one would hire his father, and the only places that would take his mother were minimum wage positions. Veronica quit college to work full time, and Luis began an after school job. Lance did too, as soon as he turned sixteen, picking up as many shifts on the weekends as he could on the farm at the outskirts of his town, doing menial labor.

He met Katie Holt that year, a girl who had a surprisingly lot in common with him. Her father and brother were mutants as well. Her older brother, Matt and her father Samuel were both contracted heroes before they had been similarly fired earlier that year. Katie was a year younger than he was, but somehow managed to snag a job at a local tech company doing consulting work. She was a genius, that much was plain, even at fifteen.

She never spoke about powers, and neither did he. He was certain she probably knew he had some kind of ability, just as he could guess she likely did as well, but neither of them would ever, ever, bring it up in conversation. That just wasn’t something you could do anymore.   

Hero work was proclaimed illegal at the end of Lance’s sophomore year. Having powers wasn’t against the law, but using them?

That earned you a one way ticket to supermax.

It was a proclamation that shocked the U.S. and frankly, the world. Other countries began adopting similar policies soon after. Before that, most of the anti-mutant sentiment had been prejudices and fear but now… the G.A.L.R.A. movement was stepping up its game, using it’s leaders in government positions to its advantage. It didn’t help that with the heroes out of the picture, villians began to run wild, instilling more and more fear into the heart of society regarding those with superhuman abilities.

 

**Eight Years Before:**

They lost their house when he was seventeen and a junior in high school. They moved into a small apartment clear across town, and Lance had a long walk to school. Sometimes kids threw insults at him, sometimes they threw rocks. Sometimes it was adults. They all knew he was the son of Cyclone, water elemental extraordinaire, and none of them wanted him in their neighborhood.

“What if he’s got latent abilities?” they whispered behind their hands and Lance

almost smiled. If only they knew.

Veronica got married that year, to her high school sweetheart. Protestors gathered outside the church to hurl insults at her. She ended up crying the entire limo ride to the reception, and Lance will never forget the look of absolute despair on her face as her new husband held her.

He was still close with Hunk and Katie, although he rarely saw the latter anymore. Her family had been forced to move as well, although they were having difficulties with their landlord. They’d had to move several times now, and she’d been missing school a lot. Hunk brought her homework and things she missed for the classes they had together, but Lance didn’t dare. His presence could only worsen their families struggles, he knew.

 

**Seven Years Before:**

Lance graduated with the rest of his class. Instead of cheers, someone threw a bottle of water at him as he crossed the stage, but he ducked it and received his diploma with a smile on his face. He wasn’t going to let any stupid G.A.L.R.A. ruin this moment for him. He’d worked hard the last four years for this. He’d earned it.

Keith wasn’t at graduation, something that made the day even better. He was surrounded by his family,  Hunk and Pidge and their families and somehow that made the pain of society’s rejection seem a little less important.

That didn’t last long.

None of the colleges he applied for would accept him. He had excellent grades and wanted to earn his degree in entertainment, maybe some kind of party planning, he wasn’t exactly sure, but he just couldn’t get in. His Mami consoled him over and over, reassuring him that he was smart, that he was worthy, but he knew that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that he was from a family of mutants and no one wanted to touch that with a ten foot pole.

He ended up going to community college. He earned an associates in event coordination and absolutely could not find a job. McDonalds took him in for sixty hours a week until he found something working as a conference planner for a tech company no one had ever heard of. The pay was shitty, but it was more than he made in fast food.

 

**Four Years Before:**

He was twenty one when they began determining where mutants could live. Regulations had been becoming stricter and stricter. Veronica, Luis and his father were all forced to wear a set of silver uniforms in public that identified them as mutants. Veronica lost her job, Luis was demoted and his father’s unemployment was cut. Lance sent as much of his money to his family as he could, but he still had to afford his own apartment. Even living with Hunk, who had a job as a pastry chef, he was strapped for cash most months.

Then his family got the eviction notice and the letter from the government stamped with the G.A.L.R.A. seal insisting that they report to sector 9 immediately, where they would be sorted into their new housing.

Lance went with them, against his Mami’s wishes. She wanted him to remain as anonymous as possible, to stay far away from the G.A.L.R.A. and what they stand for because Lance was the only mutant in the family who ran the risk of still being caught. He was  the only one in hiding, and everyone wanted to keep it that way.

But he refused to let them go through it alone.

There was still no way to detect powers in someone. G.A.L.R.A. liked to claim they were close, but they had been saying that for years. His mother still clutched closely to his fingers as they went through the gate and to their new home. It wasn’t a bad house, but there were three other families living there. Luckily, one of them was Veronica, her husband and their new baby, but Lance was still disgruntled by the fact that when he visited his family he had to share his little brother’s room.

It was difficult to get in and out of the gated community. Lance wasn’t able to visit as often as he liked because of that, but things were going relatively smoothly. His family didn’t have to work anymore. Everything was provided for them within the community and his father reassured him that things were going to be alright. They were scared for what direction the laws could turn next, but hopeful.

And then the school for mutant children was blown up.

Attendance rates had dwindled in the past few years, but there was still a large number of older students there, students who had enrolled before the G.A.L.R.A. became prominent and things went downhill for mutants. All in all, 349 mutant children were killed. Only 98 survived, 32 of which were so severely burned they would likely never regain full functioning. Multiple bombs had gone off in multiple areas of the school at once and it was descruction like modern society had never seen before.

Lance is never sure why that was the catalyst, but thinking back on it now, it seems like breaking the seal on killing school aged children opened up a lot of options for the G.A.L.R.A. This was their first major violent attack, but it wouldn’t be their last. They’d infiltrated the government, implemented their plan, and now they were revealing their true purpose all along- to eradicate the species known as “mutants”.

 

**Three Years Before:**

He was twenty two when the G.A.L.R.A. begin to attack the mutant communities one by one. Rounded up as they were, it was easy to take them out. The government group was already well on their way to turning society into a military state and with this blatant act of genocide they succeeded. Anti-mutant officers were put in place, propaganda covered every surface and Lance’s mother insisted that he stop visiting.

“It’s better this way,” she said, despite his protests.

“They’re killing mutants Mami!” he argued and she sighed.

“I’m not a mutant, _mijo,_ and your father and siblings can take care of themselves.”

“I can-”

“You can do nothing,” she said, more firmly this time, “You will do nothing. I will hunt you down and beat you within an inch of your life myself if I find you even thinking about using your power to help us.”

He hadn’t had any problems with his power for years. It was dormant almost. He had such great control that it was as if it was almost not there, as if he was just another human among the herd.

“Yes Mami,” he said, pulling her into a long hug that he was afraid to step away from.

It wasn’t the last time he saw her, but it was close.

He visited once more, just to say a sort of temporary goodbye.

It turned into a permanent one.

Mutants in these communities were refusing to fight back, were trying to maintain peace and order as they were slaughtered by the G.A.L.R.A. No one wanted to worsen relations between the humans and mutants. So they didn’t fight back, they cooperated. Cooperated with the mass genocide and destruction that the G.A.L.R.A. brought.

Before Lance’s compound was attacked, the rumors of G.A.L.R.A. extermination were just that, rumors.

And then Lance saw it with his own eyes, first hand and it became suddenly all too real.

He can remember exactly where he was when he saw the news. He was in his office chair in his apartment, wheeling it over to the kitchen to start some dinner when Hunk turned up the news and began to call his name, frantic. Lance had strolled into the living room, ice around his heart, trying to appear casual as he asked “What?”

Hunk just pointed to the T.V. and Lance sprinted for his coat, his shoes, his car keys.

Because his family’s home was on the news, the gated neighborhood was being broadcast live and the entire area was in flames.

He was too late when he got there.

Of course he was.

It could never be that simple, could it?

A lot of things happen then, that he doesn’t remember. He knows that the memories are there, in the back of his mind, but he actively pushes them down so much that it’s like they’re not. He calls it “coping” but Coran seems to consider it “unhealthy.”

One moment he was  screaming past the guard house, ignoring the shouts for him to ‘Halt! Sir, this area isn’t safe for normal citizens!” and the next he was standing outside his house, covered in soot and ash and his hands were burned and his lungs ached. He was crying too, in thick heaving gasps that left him empty and too full at the same time.

“Sir, you can’t be here, it’s not safe for you,” G.A.L.R.A. were shouting. They didn’t know. They thought he was just a normal human. A normal, distraught, terrified, grief stricken human.

For a moment, he decided to go along with it. To let them take him by the arm and direct him from the compound. To continue with the facade because that was what his mother wanted, what his whole family had wanted.

But then a G.A.L.R.A. officer with the hated symbol etched on his body armor leaned forward and whispers into Lance’s ear, “It was for the best, boy. They were nothing but disgusting mutants anyway.”

His vision whitened. He saw his father’s face leaning over his, reassuring him that heroes aren’t heroes because they take down big bad villains, but because they help people. He saw his sister Veronica holding her year old son as she laughed with her husband in the kitchen, using her power to levitate her to a shelf she couldn’t quite reach with her short stature. He saw Luis with his silly grin as he finished his beer next to Lance at the only mutant friendly bar in town. He saw Marco sitting on his bed, proudly showing off his championship football ring, his crowning achievement as he finished up his last year of highschool. He saw his mother, a soft smile on her face as she ruffled his hair and told him things were going to be okay because she loved him too much for it to be any other way.

He saw them all. And then he saw them die.

He came to with a scream of rage he’d never heard from his mouth before or since. The G.A.L.R.A. officers scrambled back, trying to get away from him as the fire hydrants in the streets exploded one by one.

Something snapped in Lance then. He wasn’t sure if it was the limits on his powers or the control he’d been exterting for so long but something was broken. Water smashed against the G.A.L.R.A. officers, throwing them against burning homes with so much force they resembled limp rag dolls. He made his way down street after street, his power flooding around his ankles as roads flooded and a steady rain began to fall from the clouds. He isn’t sure, to this day, if it was him or a coincidence of the weather.

By the time he was done, G.A.L.R.A. officers littered the streets, some dead, some alive.

And every last fire in the compound had been put out.


	2. Lance Can't Come To The Phone Right Now Because He's Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance tries to find his place in the world and has a little run in with Lotor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a description of sex in this chapter! It's relatively short, if you don't want to read it, just skip from when Nyma jumps on Lance when he walks through the door and go to the next header named "Two Days Before". You're not missing much, just some angst on Lance's part about the stability of their relationship.

**Two and a Half Years Before:**

He couldn't go home after that little display of power. He wasn’t going to put Hunk or his family at risk, and despite the fact that Katie had offered her home as a refuge to him in case he ever needed it, he didn’t want to do that to her. He couldn’t do that to her. 

So he skipped town. His face was plastered over billboards, becoming the new poster boy for villainy and anti-mutant sentiment. He didn’t care. 

He was a terrible thief, at least at first, but after a while, he got used to the idea of taking from others without giving anything in return. They were all just humans anyway. They’d taken so much from him, why couldn’t he do the same?

He moved cities, to the biggest most crowded area he could find and blended in with the thousands of faces there. The world was slowly slipping into a dystopian nightmare, but that wasn’t Lance’s problem. 

For a while, he tried getting an apartment, some kind of under the table job, but they all wanted paperwork, proof that he was human. He couldn’t risk his face being discovered, couldn’t risk anyone identifying him. 

Eventually, he settled for sleeping under the park bridge, shivering and cold as the temperature dropped well below what his clothing could protect him from. He was there for a week, starving and half dead before someone found him, coaxing him upright with a practiced ease that spoke of their experience with this kind of thing. 

“Hey there,” a soft voice whispered, cradling his head, “You look wrecked. But useful, no?”

They carried him back to the Hotel. No one knew the actual name of the place. It had long corroded away, the only letters remaining the H and the T from the original plaque. It was an abandoned building where the unwanted gathered, the scorned and the forgotten. It was just the kind of place for Lance to flourish. 

Nyma was the name of the girl who had rescued him. She fed him, gave him some warmer clothes, gave him a safe place to sleep and to stay, then explained the rules of the Hotel to him. He could belong there, could make money and live and thrive - but he had to take the jobs he was given. No matter what they were. 

He accepted without a second thought. 

 

**Two Years Before:**

He was still twenty-two when the prophecy was shown on T.V. 

The G.A.L.R.A. were not longer hiding their intentions to destroy every mutant that had ever existed. They burned communities in the open and celebrated it, covering nothing up and leaving the bodies there as a warning for everyone.

Mutants began to fight back, form rebel groups and try to take on the G.A.L.R.A. None were successful. They began to hold public executions for mutants and rebel leaders, dragging them out onto the street and on stages to be shot. 

It was during one such execution that it happened. 

A tall woman with flowing white hair was pushed onto the stage next to a man and a girl about his age. He thought maybe they were a family by the way that the two females screamed when the man’s brains splattered the front of the stage. Lance wasn’t really paying attention to the broadcast- he’d seen too many before, had been desensitized to it and besides, he was gearing up for a job. He didn’t have time to watch another family being destroyed. 

At least, that was until he felt the pulse of power and the T.V. screen flickered. 

“Did you feel that?” he asked Nyma, who’s section of the Hotel he was currently staying in. She was pulling her jeans out from behind the couch, where she’d discarded them after they’d fucked their way onto the couch last night. He was momentarily distracted by the smooth skin of her stomach, the cleavage visible through her practically see-through shirt, something she was obviously aware of as she smiled and shook her head. 

Heat stirred low in his stomach as he watched her yank them up over her curvy thighs and he thought he might not get as early of a start on his mission as he intended but then the T.V. came alive with light and sound and chaos. Something exploded on the stage and the woman, the one with white hair, was standing in the middle of it all, her arms outstretched and her hair afire with a pale aura. 

“I have seen it,” she said, and it was like her voice was magnified, like he could

hear her in his head, speaking to him, “Five together as one. Elements collide. The G.A.L.R.A. will be no more and each of you with wickedness in your hearts shall be vanquished.”

He didn’t realize he was on the ground, his head in his hands until Nyma crouched by his side, wrapping her arms around him, “Lance?”

His ears were ringing and his eyes were watering and he watched in horror as the woman was tased and then shot through the temple, right there on the stage. The girl next to her was screaming, her voice nearly drowned out by the crowd, by the bloodthirsty roars, but Lance could still hear her in his head, hear her cries that end abruptly when a portal appeared at her feet and she managed to fall into it, disappearing without a trace.  

“Lance, are you okay?” Nyma asked, forcing him to look at her. Her brown eyes were filled with concern. He nodded and she kissed him, her lips molding against his in a warm, comforting perfect distraction.

 

**One and a Half Years Before:**

He doesn’t really remember much of his life before the Hotel. He chooses not to, more accurately. Nyma asked about it, sometimes, but he didn’t tell her much. She couldn’t know about his past. As fucked up as their relationship was, he didn’t want to ruin it by revealing too much. She was in this for the money just as much as he was. What if she decided the money he could make her outweighed the pleasure he gave her?

It took another year for the G.A.L.R.A. to wipe out all the mutant safe havens. It

didn’t affect him much. Sure, he had to be careful on the streets, but he’d had to do that before. 

He was comfortable in the little home he made with Nyma. Her brother Rolo lived across the hall and they got along well, even working a few jobs together. He and Nyma built up the space to be their own, even going so far as to hang up a picture that one of the kids downstairs drew of them together. It was punctured by a rusty nail, pounded in using a sheet of scrap metal Lance had traded one of his ration squares for. 

Lance couldn’t get his rations like the others. Nyma got them for him most days, or Rolo, because he was too afraid to show his face somewhere public. She didn’t ask questions, just brought him his weekly supply of canned soup and crusty bread. 

They shared a mattress in the corner, a ratty couch taking up part of the space.

Lance earned a mini fridge on one of his assignments and although they didn’t usually have electricity, he could sometimes score ice from one of the other Hotel occupants. 

He was happy there. Or as happy as he could be stealing for a living and sleeping on a lumpy pillow of stuffed t-shirts. 

 

**One Year Before:**

He met Coran for the first time sometime during his second year with Nyma. He’d mainly been stealing items that the crew needed, hired by other members of the Hotel to procure items they wanted. He was still low on the totem pole, he knew, and took anything he could get his hands on. No one knew of his abilities, and while he could likely get much better-paying positions if he revealed them, he was too afraid of what that would mean. 

Besides, his control wasn’t exactly… the best anymore. Hadn’t been, not since-

The ginger-haired man was sitting on the steps of the Hotel, twirling his mustache when Lance returned. He was immediately suspicious- it hadn’t been long enough for Lance’s comfort since the incident at the G.A.L.R.A. community, despite the fact that it had been a solid eighteen months since he’d left the city of his birth. The rest of the world was referring to it as the “Cyclone Disaster” and Lance hated that they were dragging his father’s name through the mud like that, hated that he was the one who had prompted them to do it in the first place. Regardless, his face was still on every news channel, every billboard, and they were offering a hefty reward for his capture. 

So a stranger on the Hotel’s doorstep raised all of Lance’s alarms. 

“Are you the one they call Blue?” the man asked and Lance froze. Nyma had come up with the nickname. She’d told everyone he was blue when she rescued him, so cold she’d almost thought he was a corpse. The name had stuck. 

“Who’s asking?” he growled and the guy laughed. 

“No need to worry. I’m just here to offer you a job.” 

The puddles of rainwater that had collected in the drain pipes began to shiver, like something heavy was stomping down the street toward them, “I just got back from a job.”

“Yes, but this one pays. Coin,” the ginger said, rubbing his fingers together to demonstrate his point. 

Shit. Lance could really use the money that this guy offered, but he didn’t want to risk it either. Most of the jobs he’d taken recently had been bartering for things that he needed as in, ‘steal from this G.A.L.R.A. base and we’ll give you a few warmer blankets for winter.” He hadn’t had a job for actual coin in several months. 

“How many G.A.C.?” he asked, because the G.A.L.R.A. had even taken over the economic system with their own currency. There were no longer countries or states or individual leaders. There were only the G.A.L.R.A. and their lackeys. 

“I’ll give you twenty,” the guy said, holding up a 10 G.A.C. piece.

“What do you need me to do?” 

Twenty G.A.C. could get both him and Nyma new pair of shoes. 

“Just gather some information for me, is all. From the nearby G.A.L.R.A. base. I want you to listen in tomorrow on one of their meetings and report back to me what you hear.” 

Lance agreed readily, because honestly, it was too simple. He’d been doing that for weeks already, more for his own safety than anything else. This time, he’d be getting paid. 

“The name’s Coran. I’ll be back tomorrow to collect any information you might have,” Coran was eyeing the water, the water that was now still and no longer vibrating with the intensity of Lance’s anxiety. 

“Got it,” Lance said, hoping the man will just leave. Lance wasn’t in the mood to come up with replies for questions he couldn’t answer.

Coran gave him an odd look, one that Lance couldn’t interpret and then stood, walking into the distance like he was unperturbed by the destruction, by the bombed out buildings and the drugged out humans and the overall terrible state of the neighborhood. He was dressed in too nice of clothes to live nearby, but Lance didn't let himself linger on it for too long. He didn’t let himself linger on much of anything back then. 

He made his way up the steps to the fourth floor, jumping over the gaps in the staircase. He and Nyma had one of the apartments at the back, where the damage to the building was the worst. They both did jobs instead of paying rent and Lance didn’t mind the draft from the broken windows as much as he thought he would. 

He knocked twice and then scratched one finger against the doorknob to let Nyma know it was him coming in rather than a stranger. While their door didn’t have a lock, one or the other was usually home, and they could both take care of themselves. Besides, there wasn’t really much of anything for anyone to steal. 

Lance opened the door and was immediately accosted by Nyma as she launched herself into his arms, slamming him back against the wall. He kicked the door shut with his foot and kissed her, his mouth moving against hers with little to no restraint. 

“Who was that on the steps?” she breathed as his lips moved to her neck, her collarbone. 

“Just some guy with a job,” he answered, and she smiled. 

“Guess your reputation is getting out there,” she slid her hands up his shirt, skimming across his muscled abdomen and broad shoulders, “Good. It’s what we’ve been working toward, hmm?”

He didn’t answer, too busy pulling her camisole over her head to focus on anything else. He lifted her higher, supporting her weight with both hands as he cupped her ass. It brought her to just the right angle where he could latch onto one of her nipples, rolling it gently between his teeth as she groaned lowly against his jaw, both of her hands kneading into the smooth skin of his back. 

They didn’t make it to the couch, instead knocking everything off the dresser in one fell swoop as Nyma fumbled with the buttons on his jeans and he shoved her leggings down around her ankles, pushing inside her with little preamble. 

“God I missed you,” she moaned, but Lance knew it wasn’t really  _ him  _ that she missed, just this feeling. The feeling that she was wanted, of the ecstasy that he pulled from her five minutes later with her bare back against the crumbling wall of their apartment. It was okay with him, really. That was what he liked about her as well, the thrill and the uncertainty and the mind-blowing sex. 

If he connected with her, really connected, it would be bad for both of them. Too many people like them died every day for them to even consider it.  

 

**Two Days Before:**

He worked for Coran regularly for the next year, pulling information from the G.A.L.R.A. in exchange for coin. Coran wasn’t his only employer, but he was his favorite.  

He never made Lance do the kind of jobs that made his skin crawl, like taking pictures of the little girl that lived in Room 356 without her knowledge or beating the old guy that lived on Cherry Street within an inch of his life or-

He didn't think about the other jobs. The ones he left on and didn't come back from, the ones where when he came back the facet would leak for days. Nyma never understood what was wrong with him when he would withdraw into himself. He wasn't sure he would explain, could explain, if she asked. 

She never asked. 

He had been at the hotel, with Nyma, for a total of two and a half years (he thought) and that was when things changed. Coran asked him to do a job that wasn't like the usual, that wasn't as harmless and easy as the jobs he normally gave Lance to do. Which wouldn't be a problem except… 

“You want me to place a bug in Lotors office?!” Lotor was the G.A.L.R.A. second in command, son of the proclaimed leader of the G.A.L.R.A. movement, Zarkon. He was almost as big league as one could get without attacking his father. 

“Shhhh!” Coran hushed him, his ginger mustache twitching as he glanced around the shitty Cafe Lance frequented when he had the cash. “Do you want to be overheard and murdered??”

Lance wasn't too worried about that, seeing as the owner of the coffee shop had once hired him for the kind of job that would get him 15 years in the supermax G.A.L.R.A. Detention Center if Lance ever decided to rat on him. Lance would never, as it wasn't his policy, but Klaizap didn't need to know that. 

“Blue, I know it sounds dangerous-”

“That’s not my kind of thing Coran,” Lance said, his arms crossed over his chest, “I’m not a spy. Sure I’ll listen outside a door for a few hours, but I can’t sneak into the middle of a G.A.L.R.A. base and plant something in Lotor’s tech. Can’t and I won’t.”

“I’m offering you 1,000 G.A.C.,” Coran whispered and Lance choked on his coffee. 

“What?”

“I said, I’m-”

“I know what you said. How did you stumble upon that much cash?” Lance had come to learn over the years of working with Coran that the man wasn’t quite as rich as he initially anticipated. Sure, Coran had money, and a lot more of it than Lance, but he wasn’t loaded. And he had as much to fear from being caught by the G.A.L.R.A. as Lance did. 

“Never mind that,” Coran waved his hand in the air as if it wasn’t important, and honestly as long as Lance got the cash it wasn’t, “Plant this bug in Lotor’s computer using the instructions provided on the prompts given on the flash drive and you’ll have the coin.”

“Half now, half upon completion,” Lance immediately insisted and Coran winced. Lance trusted him, more than he trusted anyone other than Nyma and Rolo he supposed, but he also wasn’t stupid. 

“Alright. I’ve got the money in my hovercraft,” Coran sighed, rubbing his wide forehead, “Just let me explain how the drive works and I’ll get it for you.”

They sat there for another half an hour until both Lance and Coran felt Lance knew enough to plant the virus. 

Lance took his 500 G.A.C. and left. He met Nyma in their apartment, gave her the cash and told her that if he didn’t come back she was to split the money between her brother and herself and get something nice. He didn’t tell her to leave to the Hotel to start a new life. It wasn’t near enough money for that. Besides, he knew she enjoyed the way they lived. How, he wasn’t sure, but he suspected it was because she wasn’t a mutant and didn’t really  _ have _ to live in these conditions. She chose to be free from the G.A.L.R.A. She wasn’t on the run. 

He refused to let himself be bitter about it as he kissed her forehead and hugged her against his chest until he worked up the courage to walk out the door. 

 

**The Day Before:**

Getting inside the base wasn’t a problem. He knew how to sneak through the corridors of this particular outpost like a pro by now, and he didn’t hesitate to use all the tricks he had at his disposal. Despite the fact that his mutation was wild and difficult to control, he managed to turn a few leaky pipes into puddles of ice and send sentries falling on their asses in several prime locations. 

He made it to Lotor’s office in record time. Coran assured him Lotor would be out of town for the foreseeable future, and so all Lance had to do was place the flash drive into the monitor, download the virus and sneak out again. 

Lance wasn’t a spy. He wasn’t a superhero with fucking ninja training. He expected Coran to be correct, and for Lotor to be nowhere in sight. So when he opened the door and snuck into Lotor’s office, only to have the door open immediately after him to reveal the very man he was trying to steal information from?

Well, Lance fucking froze. Luckily, he was close enough to the desk to roll under it, crouching in terror. 

“I know you’re in here,” Lotor drawled and Lance nearly pissed himself, “I saw you enter. If this is the best that the princess can come up with I’m frankly ashamed to say she’s my cousin.”

Lance would have liked to have had time to worry about who the shit this princess chick was and why Lotor thought Lance had been sent by her, but he was too busy  _ freaking out.  _

And when Lance freaked out… his powers tended to get a little bit… wonky. 

He darted his gaze upward toward the ceiling, wondering if he could maybe latch onto it and climb over Lotor or something when he remembered that even if he could, he doesn’t have any type of gear to make that possible. Also, Lotor was already in front of him, putting his hand on his shoulder. Lance yelped as he hit his head on the desk in surprise. Lotor wasted no time yanking him out into the open. 

The cup of water on the counter exploded and then Lance felt a tug in his gut and the sink in the bathroom followed suit, water spraying out through the entryway. It pooled across the floor and Lotor watched it with mild disinterest, his eyebrows raised. 

“Is that really all you’ve got?” he asked before he slammed his elbow into the side of Lance’s face and everything went dark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Comments and Kudos are greatly appreciated. Hope you enjoyed!


	3. Slap My Ass And Call Me "McClain?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'll be going on vacation this weekend, so I'll be posting this week's chapters today and Thursday. Hope you enjoy!

**Now:**

And that, Ladies and Gents, is how Lance McClain ends up the opposite of a hero, in a fucking G.A.L.R.A. jail cell with power resistant cuffs on his wrists. He hadn’t even known the G.A.L.R.A. had developed tech this advanced, but honestly, he shouldn’t be surprised.

He rubs at the back of his neck with one hand, thankful that his wrists are cuffed in front of him. He isn’t sure how long he’s been here, but his mouth is parched and his temple throbs in time with his heart.

“Hello?” a drowsy voice asks and he jumps a foot in the air, his elbow hitting the metal floor at an awkward angle.

“Fuck!” he hisses, peering through the gloom to try to figure out who’s speaking to him, “Who goes there?’

There’s shuffling and then in the light coming through the slit under the door, he can make out the vague outline of a face and dark hair with a streak of white at the front.

His heart stutters because _what the fuck?_

“Takashi Shirogane?” he asks, because he’s pretty sure he can make out that distinct jawline and despite the fact that it’s been years he still recognizes the voice from television.

“How do you know my name?” the figure asks, sounding exhausted.

“I… I used to be a fan of yours,” Lance says and he hates the way his voice stumbles over the words, how he said _used to be_ like he isn’t still. Which Lance guesses, actually, that he isn’t, because he hasn’t thought about superheroes or powers any more than is necessary for him to live and idolizing Takashi just isn’t on that list.

“Oh,” Takashi says, but its small and empty and Lance isn’t quite sure what to make of it.

They fall into silence again because Lance doesn’t know what to say. He knows he’s kind of a boring person, that he doesn’t have much personality but he can’t really afford to become invested in something like that. Or maybe it's just because the entire first twenty-four (or is it twenty-five?) years of his life have been kind of all a blur of memories that Lance doesn’t much care to reflect on.

There’s a loud crash from the hallway that Lance ignores. He hears Takashi stir somewhere next to him. He wonders if the man has on the same power canceling handcuffs he does and if they’re just as uncomfortable as Lance’s. It’s making his whole body itch, to be cut off from his power like this.

He’s about to ask when there’s another crash and a resounding _BOOM_ that shakes the entire room. Lance is leveraging to his feet in an instant, gaze darting between the door and Takashi.

“You heard that, right?” he stammers, and the man nods, albeit weakly.  

Footsteps pound outside the door and he immediately crouches back down, trying to see movement under the door. The sliver of light doesn’t reveal much, just the bottom of some G.A.L.R.A. regulated boots as they storm past. What’s going on?

There’s some grunts and a cry of pain but Lance can’t see what’s going on, much to his frustration. He can’t fathom what might be happening in the hallway. Are the G.A.L.R.A. fighting amongst themselves? Why would they do that when they could be out killing mutants?

Then he thinks that maybe it’s a rebel group attacking and immediately dismisses that idea. The rebels had been killed off long ago. He hasn’t heard anything about them in months, years maybe. Time passes strangely for Lance.

His face is still pressed to the floor when the door bursts open and a familiar male voice says, “Lance? You in here?”

“Hunk?” he exclaims, surprised for the second time in like ten minutes, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Is that any way to greet your best friend?” Hunk grumbles, but then yanks Lance upright and pulls him into a bear hug, “Oh man I’ve missed you so much.”

“I…” Lance once again is left speechless, something that for those who know him, is a rare thing.

He doesn’t know what to say, what to do with himself. Hunk, his closest friend from high school and college, the human he’d trusted with his life more times than he could count is here? He’d left Hunk behind along with his life after his parents-

He stops thinking, shutting everything down that he’d been starting to feel.

_See, this is why emotions are bad!_

“Come on, we don’t have time-” Hunk’s saying but Lance stops him.

“Hunk, Takashi Shirogane is in this cell with me.”

Hunk’s eyes widen and then he yells over his shoulder, “Red, he’s in here!”

 _Red?_ He’s at the top of the mutant most wanted list, just above Lance’s name. No one knows who Red really is, but he apparently blew up a building with his power last year, killing everyone inside instantly. More than 150 people had been burned alive.

“That’s not really what happened, buddy,” Hunk says and Lance realizes he’s been speaking out loud, “I’ll explain everything to you later. Right now, we need to move. Coran’s got the car ready to go out front.”

“Coran?” Lance squeaks and he thinks his brain might be melting out his ears. What’s going on here? Why is Coran rescuing him? Why are Hunk and Coran together? Why are they with Red?

But his brain has a lot of experience in shutting down nonessential questions in times of crisis so he follows Hunk out of the cell just in time for his shoulder to collide with a man in red body armor, complete with a helmet that obscures his face. He’s about to say something bitchy but Hunk pulls him along and he relents, sprinting after his best friend of six years.

He glances back once or twice to see that Red (at least that’s whom he assumes it is), is hefting Takashi’s arm around his shoulders, practically dragging him along down the hallway. He pauses, stares after Hunk’s retreating back and sighs, slowing to take Takashi’s other arm over his shoulder. It’s awkward with his cuffs, but he makes it work.

“What are you doing,” Red growls and Lance gives him a mirthless smile.

“I’m helping, you twat.”

“I don’t need it,” Red snaps back and Lance almost drops Takashi to the ground out of spite.

“Yeah, well _he_ does, so suck it up your asshole,” Lance snarls back and he’s rewarded by Red’s furious silence.

They make it out to the massive hole in the wall that is twice as tall as Lance and that big around. He really wants to know how Coran managed to procure bombs when the G.A.L.R.A. strictly prohibit all use of weapons unless granted permission by the G.A.L.R.A. themselves, something Lance is pretty sure Coran doesn’t have.

“Hurry!” Hunk is yelling and Lance surges forward, dragging both Takashi and Red behind him as he sprints for the back of the van. Hunk helps them lift the now unconscious former hero into the back where he lays sprawled out at their feet. Lance climbs in and Red follows suit, slamming the doors shut behind him as Coran sends the van careening forward, the tires screeching in protest.

Lance flops back on a bench seat, carefully wiping sweat from his face so he doesn’t hit himself in the nose with the clunky metal strapping his wrists together. Coran is laughing maniacally as he takes corners much too sharply and Red stumbles back against a bench in his efforts to crouch beside Takashi.

“Shiro?” Red asks, his voice almost pleading. He rips off his mask, pressing two pale fingers to the column of Takashi’s throat as if checking for a pulse.

He looks up and says something to Coran but Lance doesn’t hear it because that’s when his brain finally decides its had enough.

Because _Keith_ motherfucking _Kogane_ is crouched in front of him, wearing the outfit of a mass murderer and Lance wants out.

 

**Two Seconds Later:**

“Kogane?” Lance says. The man in front of him looks eerily different from the boy that sat behind him in chemistry and slept through 90% of his courses, but Lance would recognize that mullet anywhere.

“McClain?” Keith says, in equal disbelief. He must not have gotten a good look at Lance’s face in the compound because Keith’s staring at him like Lance materialized out of nowhere.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Lance asks because he has no manners and doesn’t much care.

“I could ask you the same damn question,” Keith says but though the words are snarled he’s not even looking at Lance. He’s patting Shiro’s face gently, pulling the older man’s head into his lap as he maneuvers to sit on the floor.

Someone sticks their head around the passenger's side seat, patting Hunk’s shoulder as they lean into the back, “Could you two wait to argue until we make it back to the safe house please?”

“Holy fuck-” Lance chokes out because he’s pretty sure that’s Katie. Katie Holt, the fifteen-year-old who had barely been tall enough to reach the pedals in his car when she’d tried to take it for a joyride, “Katie?”

“I go by Pidge now,” Katie says, straightening her glasses. She definitely never had glasses before. Her hair is short, falling to just under her chin and she’s got more bobby pins than he can count holding it away from her face. She’s wearing lesbian pride bangles and a Dragon Ball Z tee that he can’t read the text on, but most of all she’s… taller. Her face is angled and her cheekbones are more pronounced, but her amber eyes are the same and that’s what he chooses to focus on.

“You’re what, twenty-four now? Jesus, you’re an adult!” Lance exclaims and she gives him an unamused look.

“So are you, fuckhead,” she rolls her eyes and turns back to the front of the van. Lance finally notices the laptop clutched in her grip, and she furiously types something into it, “Allura says we’re good to go for spirit plane entrance.”

“Everybody hang on!” Coran shouts gleefully and Lance clutches at the bench seat in desperation as the world suddenly goes dark. He’s still trying to stare out the front window, but Hunk blocks his view with a shake of his head.

“Trust me, man, you’re not ready for that yet.”

“Not ready for what?” his head is going to explode. It’s like he’d been living in the world with a film over his eyes, a film that’s been ripped away and he’s seeing everything in painfully high def color.

“Just… we’ll explain everything when we get back.”

“Back to where!” Lance blurts.

“Will you just shut the fuck up!” Keith snaps from his place on the floor. Lance feels warm, suddenly, and he isn’t sure if it’s because he’s furious or if it's because wherever they are increased the temperature of the air in the vehicle.

Lance is about to respond with something equally nasty when Keith says, “I think they tried to give him the power suppressants. He’s not wearing cuffs.”

It’s the crack in Keith’s voice that has Lance settling back in his seat and giving Hunk a questioning look. Not because he cares that Keith is distraught, but Keith’s distress means something’s wrong with Takashi and that he does care about.

Lance doesn’t open his mouth again, but he doesn’t understand why Keith would think there were power suppressants involved. The G.A.L.R.A. have been trying to develop them for years and they’ve never gotten anywhere close. Although, he also thought they hadn’t been close to developing power suppressant cuffs either but he’s still trapped in them.

“It’s going to be alright, m’boy,” Coran says, as if he’s the leading authority on this kind of thing, “We’ll get him sorted just as soon as we’re in the safe house.”

Keith doesn’t respond but Lance can see him adjust his grip, one hand coming down to clasp Shiro’s. He wonders if the two of them are together, like… together together, but then realizes it’s not really any of his business.

The car jerks violently and Lance tumbles forward. He nearly smacks his head against the floor when he can’t halt his fall due to the cuff situation, but then a set of strong arms is gripping his shoulders tightly, preventing him from a full face-plant.

He starts to thank Hunk but then glances up into the face of Keith, who’s still sitting on the floor of the van. His hands are hot even through the fabric of Lance’s t-shirt. Keith’s eyes meet his for an awkward second and then Keith’s shoving him back upright with a grunt, his gaze darting back toward Shiro’s prone form like it never happened.

Lance does the same. There’s an awkward moment of silence and then Pidge is leaning around the front seat again, “We’re here.”

“Oh thank god,” Lance mutters and Coran turns off the van. Keith and Hunk get situated, with Hunk at Shiro’s shoulders and Keith at his feet. Coran opens the door and the two of them duck out of it, shuffling together out into the open space beyond. Lance follows them, stepping onto a smooth concrete floor. They’re in what looks like a warehouse, a huge empty space that has been manually divided by curtains and crates. Keith and Hunk are carrying Shiro toward a beautiful woman in a pink robe, her hair pulled into a loose ponytail. There are two young children clutching at her legs, peering out at the van and their procession with wide, scared eyes.

“What’s wrong with him?” the woman asks, her voice high and worried, “You didn’t say he was hurt.”

“We’re trying to figure that out,” Keith mutters, but he’s too far away for Lance to see his face or his reaction to the woman’s piercing gaze. She follows behind the two, one hand going to the back of each child in either comfort or to keep them with her, Lance isn’t sure.

Pidge hops from the passenger seat, her laptop clutched in her grip. Her expression is grim, but there’s something behind it that Lance thinks might be excitement, although he’s not quite sure why that would be the case. She moves up behind the woman, patting one of the kids on the head before she says, “Why don’t the kids come help me in the lab a minute? Give Hunk and Coran some time to take care of their dad.”

Takashi Shirogane has children? Well, he shouldn’t be surprised that that was never advertised. They’d be prime targets for the G.A.L.R.A.

“Thank you Pidge,” the woman says softly and the two little girls grab onto Pidge’s fingers like lifelines, following her into a makeshift room created from boxes and boxes of what looks like tech equipment. Shiro’s being carried into an area cordoned off by curtains, but once they pass through the white fabric Lance can’t see what they’re doing any longer.

The woman watches Coran hurry after Hunk, Keith, and Shiro before she turns to Lance, “You must be Mr. McClain. I’m Allura Altea. A pleasure to meet you.”

She reaches out a hand toward him and he takes it, wondering if he’s dreaming, “Uh, yeah I’m… You can call me Lance. Just Lance. How…?”

“I have visions. Of, you know... the future,” she says like that should clarify everything. She seems to feel just as awkward about this whole thing as he does because she says, “This must all be very overwhelming for you.”

She has some kind of accent that Lance can’t place. He tries to figure it out but his brain is too tired, too fuzzy. Instead, he says, “Yeah.”

Allura sighs and starts to say something like, “Don’t worry, all will be-” when Keith bursts from what Lance assumes is the hospital area with murder in his clenched fists. Lance hears Hunk call something but can’t quite make out what it is.

“What did you do to him?” he snarls. Lance takes a step back, more confused than afraid.

“To who? Takashi? Nothing!”

“He’s cold!” Keith bites back, his hair falling around his face in graceful arcs as he advances. It’s longer than Lance remembers it to be, the shorter pieces front pieces curling around Keith’s chin. _This isn’t the time for this,_ his brain reminds him and his gaze sharpens on Keith’s lips as the man growls, “You’ve got ice power, don’t you? Or water? He’s freezing and there’s no reason-”

“Keith,” Allura steps up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He flinches and she immediately withdraws, but doesn’t back away, “He doesn’t know-”

“You said he was the water elemental,” Keith isn’t deterred by Allura’s calming tone and Lance is starting to get a little steamed himself. He didn’t _do_ anything. He says that, aloud, and is rewarded with a glare from Keith, the guy he never liked anyway. Why is he trying to prove anything? He should just leave, go home, find Nyma and get back to his life.

But is it life? Living like that? He’s found Pidge and Hunk here, and he might even get to meet his hero if he stays. Maybe some cash too. He can contact Nyma later. The rooms here, as shabby as they are, look a hell of a lot cleaner and more comfortable than the flat he shares with Nyma.

“Seriously, I never touched him. And even if I had, there’s nothing I could do with these cuffs on! They cancel out my power, I can’t do a damn thing with them on,” Lance protests and to his relief, Keith’s brow smooths out and he crosses his arms over his chest.

He thinks it might be over, that Keith believes him and is going to let it go when the dark-haired man shrugs and says “Just because _you_ can’t doesn’t mean others haven’t.”

Then he turns his back on Lance like he’s dismissed him and starts to walk back toward the med bay, shoulders hunched and his head down.

Despite himself, despite trying to ignore it, trying not to stoop to this guy’s level, he’s angry, furious, that Keith Kogane, the piece of shit drop out from high school thinks he’s so high and mighty. That the very same man he’s despised for all these years is also Red, the guy who has so little control over his power that he’s hurt hundreds, just makes his last comment so much worse.

“Is that what happened when you killed everyone in the G.A.L.R.A. Tech Tower?” Lance shouts before he can stop himself, “You were trying to show how big and powerful you were, and what, all those families were just collateral damage?”

Keith freezes and Lance knows he just made a very, very terrible mistake.

Lance doesn’t know how Keith’s ability works, doesn’t know what exactly he can do, but he does know that he’s stuck in power canceling cuffs that essentially prevent him from defending himself. Something he realizes he’s probably going to have to do as Keith turns to face him again.

He squeezes his lips together to prevents his small squeak of fear from escaping when he finally sees Keith’s eyes, the pupils and iris’s gone. There’s just a glowing yellow in their place, covering the sclera to create a uniform horror show in Keith’s expression of terrifying blankness. And that’s _before_ the fire.

As Lance watches, Keith takes a step forward, and his hand ignites. The flames spread quickly, his skin combusting so rapidly that Lance blinks and his whole body is gone, caught in the haze of red and gold flickering light. His hair is floating in the smoke and his clothes are beginning to char but Keith himself looks untouched, his skin free from soot or burns.

“Holy shit,” Lance stammers. He can vaguely hear Allura shouting something but he can’t focus on anything but this column of death moving toward him.

His vision flickers and he’s standing outside his home, watching the plastic of the drain pipe drip onto the concrete of the front steps. The bricks are black and cracking and the siding is gone in several places. Fire licks at his tennis shoes and he can feel the heat on his face but he doesn’t care. He can’t care anymore because nearly everyone he’s ever loved is inside in the fire and he should be there too.

He resurfaces and Lance realizes that the warmth on his skin is real, isn’t a memory. Keith is close, much too close, when there’s a puff of air and something silver lodges itself into his neck. The effect is almost instantaneous. The fire extinguishes and it’s just Keith standing in front of him, one hand rising to pull the small dart from his flesh.

He stares down at it for a second and then looks back up at Lance. His expression isn’t at all what Lance is expecting. It’s broken, guilty, exhausted, worried, borderline panicked and Lance thinks that maybe he might have misinterpreted Keith’s words because this is not a man who is _angry._

But then Keith drops to one knee and he stares down at the dart in recognition and bewilderment and the moment’s gone. Almost like Lance imagined it.

“I… I’m…” Keith’s gaze shifts to the right, to someone standing there, clutching the barrel of a wicked looking tranquilizer gun. Lance’s vision wavers for a second but when it clears, Allura comes into focus. Keith’s words slur and he lists to the side, one hand moving sluggishly to catch his descent, “‘Lura. S-s…”

His eyes roll back in his head and he slips bonelessly to the floor, his dark hair falling across his nose and lips. It reminds Lance of being in his pool, of staring up at the sun partially obscured by the shifting leaves of the palm trees.

“Apologies,” Allura says. She doesn’t even sound ruffled, just tucks the gun under her arm and moves forward to help Lance up, “Now where were we?”


	4. Hunk: Adoption Doesn't Have To Be A Bad Thing

**Now:**

He hears the whoosh of the flames and knows Keith’s lost control again. They only have three cots in Arus’ hospital ward, one of which is covered by medical supplies since they don’t currently have a table. Hunk wonders if he’s going to have to move all their shit to fit both Lance and Keith in here. God, he hopes not. 

He steps out into the open space of Arus’ main room to find that thankfully Allura procured the tranq gun. Keith’s already going down, but luckily Lance doesn’t appear to be hurt. 

“Apologies,” Allura says in that prim and controlled way she has, “Now where were we?” 

She helps Lance to his feet and catches Hunk’s eye, “Ah, perfect. Hunk, why don’t you explain to your friend a little of what’s going on here? He might feel more comfortable with someone he’s familiar with.”

“Yeah, sure,” Hunk tries to smile in Lance’s direction, but it feels kind of forced with Keith’s unconscious body separating them, “Lemme just grab Keith and then you can follow me into the infirmary.”

 

**Twenty Years Ago:**

Hunk always knew he was adopted. His moms told him that from the day they became his legal guardians. It didn’t bother him in the slightest because he knew that his mother and his momma loved him very much. 

He was five when he overheard them talking in the kitchen. He doesn’t remember much about it, except that they thought he was down for a nap and he wasn’t supposed to have been listening. 

“The hurricane’s going to reach all the way up here this week,” his mother said, leaning against the counter. 

“Do you think it’ll bother Hunk?” Momma asked, pulling something from the fridge. Her voice sounded all funny when it was behind the door. 

“Why?” 

“Moyra, his parents died in a hurricane. Just because he was only six months old doesn’t mean there wasn’t any kind of trauma.”

“He wasn’t even with his parents,” His mother answered, rubbing her forehead, “He was with his grandma inland. I don’t think he remembers anything.”

They found him standing in the doorway a minute later, confused and upset. They explained to him that his parents had died while on vacation at the ocean when a big storm blew through. He’d been staying with his grandmother, who died a week after from a heart attack. His momma and mother adopted him the following year. 

His momma and mother are right. He doesn’t remember anything, but that doesn’t stop him from being scared of the hurricane all the same. 

 

**Eighteen Years Ago:**

He wasn’t one of the mutants born with powers. There were kids at his school with special abilities, but most of them were dumb, Hunk thought. He didn’t tell them that of course, because he didn’t want to hurt their feelings, but the other kids in his class seemed to think that being able to grow your toenails really fast was much cooler than he did. 

When he was seven, he went on vacation (not by the ocean) with his moms and got a much, much better power. He caused a rock slide down the side of the mountain they were camping on, and while no one was hurt, his parents were pretty shaken. He felt bad about that, of course, he did, but he was also so excited he didn’t know how to contain himself. He knows now that his moms weren’t afraid of him, but for him. It wasn’t the best time to be a budding mutant, but seven-year-old Hunk didn’t know any better. 

His parents enrolled him into the school for mutants the day they got back. They left their vacation early, much to Hunk’s disappointment. Plus, he was expected to go to summer school. He would have been upset about that except it meant he got to practice throwing rocks around and he made friends with Henry, a boy his age who could lift really heavy stuff and Josephina, a girl who could read Hunk’s mind. 

They were his best friends. He had class with them in the fall and he learned the normal boring stuff but he also got to practice hitting targets with pebbles and pulling down walls and lifting bigger and bigger boulders with just his mind. It was so great that it almost didn’t bother him when the big kids from the high school across the street threw pieces of concrete at them as they walked and called them mean names. Hunk could stop all the rocks, of course, but he couldn’t stop the words and somehow he knew that those hurt worse. 

His mom found out and called the school, but there was nothing they could do. Anti-mutant laws prevent them from taking action, she said to mother when she thought Hunk wasn’t listening. She didn’t call the parents of the kids, didn’t call the other school, didn’t do anything more, after that. Instead, she held Hunk when he cried and told him that she loved him more than air and honestly that was better than anything else she could have done. 

 

**Eleven Years Ago:**

When the G.A.L.R.A. became big, appearing as protest groups in the streets, carrying signs and marching in front of schools, his moms began to express some worry about him going to school alone. He’d been at the Hartford School for Mutants for years now, he was almost to high school, in fact, but his moms more and more frequently called him in sick and let him go to the beach for the day. He wasn’t afraid of the ocean anymore. He was too big to be scared of the same things that had terrified him as a child. Besides, Hartford didn’t get hurricanes. 

Hunk’s school was starting to get national attention. It was one of the only schools for mutants still actively taking students. Hunk never wanted to be a hero, not really, he’d thought something more along the lines of a construction worker, engineer or maybe cook, but his mother had cried when she saw that the new hero restriction laws had passed. He didn’t know that this meant so many worse things were to come, but he thinks now that his mother must have or she wouldn’t have been so upset. 

After he finished middle school, they leave. His moms make him pack in the middle of the night and he does. They leave their apartment in the city behind and move to a new town, a place that Hunk didn’t recognize. His moms told him that it was dangerous back where they used to live, that they were shutting down the school, but Hunk knew that wasn’t the case. He saw it on the news that it was still running. 

He was angry that he had to leave his friends, that he had to be in this place where he didn’t know anyone and he had to go by a new name and live in a new apartment but his moms explained that it was all to keep him safe. His old name, Hunk Garrett, was on the mutant registry, and is still, to this day. The new name he went by, Harold Smith, was stupid, but he just told everyone his nickname was Hunk and they went with it. His moms were angry with him when they heard his new friend Lance call him by his actual name, but Hunk didn’t care. 

He and Lance become close. He had Lance over to his house almost every weekend and got to hear about how cool Lance’s dad was, about all the stuff he used to do as a hero. It made Hunk wish he could be a hero too, but he knew that wasn’t possible, not anymore. His moms told him he couldn’t tell anyone about his power, that he had to keep it a secret, and although he didn’t really understand it at first, after being friends with Lance for a few months, he got it. Everyone treated Lance like he had the plague once they found out his dad was a powerful mutant, even though Lance himself didn’t even have powers. Lance didn’t seem to notice the way others acted toward him, he was just the same wreckless silly guy that Hunk liked to hang out with, but it hurt Hunk to watch it happen sometimes. 

He wasn’t allowed to go to Lance’s house either. Hunks mom worried that someone would make the connection between Hunk and the mutant he used to be in public if he’s seen around a famous former hero. He didn’t really understand it, but his mom seemed so panicked when he made the suggestion that he never brought it up again and tried to come up with as many excuses as he could when Lance asked him. 

It sucked, not being able to tell your best friend about a big part of you. He felt like he was being such a bad friend sometimes, but he knew that it would only be worse for Lance if he knew. If anyone knew. 

So he kept his mouth shut and got good grades and listened to Lance bitch about “stupid ass Keith Kogane did this again today” and he had the best freshman year he possibly could, given the circumstances. 

 

**Ten Years Ago:**

Hunk’s sophomore year did not continue the pattern. Hero work, using powers in public, became illegal. He heard his mom telling his mother that she was eternally glad they got out when they did because otherwise they weren’t sure what would have happened to him. 

It made him feel all twisted inside that he was the reason they had to move. That he was the reason they were experiencing so many difficulties. 

He met Katie this year. She was the daughter of another famous hero, Sam Holt, who was a genius. He was able to control electrical pulses and this allowed him to create technology that otherwise would have been impossible. Hunk was obsessed with some of the space gear and shielding technology that Mr. Holt was able to make, but like Lance’s family, Hunk wasn’t allowed to visit Katie’s either. He’s never met Samuel Holt and that’s something that continuously irks him. 

He and Katie got along well. They were both interested in engineering and tech. They bonded over watching Lance’s ridiculous antics and betting on how long each of his girlfriends would last before he got bored with them. Her family was struggling with the removal of both her father and older brother from the hero roster. Neither of them could find work, so he hooked her up with a job through his mom’s tech company. Katie was a genius and fit right in. 

Both Lance and Katie work after school now so he spent a lot of time walking around town, or sitting in his apartment. He learned how to cook his sophomore year, mostly because he was bored, but honestly because it interested him. He baked and he made food for his moms and it was something that passed the time. 

 

**Eight Years Ago:**

He graduated in the spring with Lance and Katie. Lance said something about being glad he hadn’t seen Keith there, but Hunk thought that maybe he was just being mean. He hadn’t seen Keith around for a while and while it’s normal for him to miss school, he thought something serious was probably going on. Katie was friends with him, at least a little, and she said that Keith was having some problems at home. He said that to Lance, but he just scoffed and replied with, “Oh sure, like he stubbed his poor little precious toe or some shit. The guy’s an asshole Hunk, I wouldn’t worry about him.”

Hunk wasn’t worrying about him, not really. Hunk worried about everything, actually, but he wasn’t worrying about Keith any more than say… getting into a car accident on the way home. It was a present thought in the back of his mind, but not something he was actively doing something to prevent. 

People threw things at Lance as he walked across the stage, but they didn’t for Hunk. He felt guilty about that, about the fact that Lance was the one being persecuted for something he didn’t even have control over when Hunk was the one with powers, but his mom gave him a long hug that night and told him it wasn’t his fault. He had to do what he needed to in order to keep himself alive. Lance could handle himself. 

Despite being told that, he still somehow didn’t believe it. 

 

**Seven Years Ago:**

Hunk got into a top engineering school in the area. He took culinary arts classes at night and lived with Lance, who he only saw on the weekend. Lance was in a community college and while he loved what he was doing, Hunk knew there were better schools he would have rather ended up at. He hadn’t seen Katie in a while, but that wasn’t unusual. She was the type of person to disappear for a year and then suddenly pop back into your life like she’d never left. 

In his first year at undergrad, his mom got sick. She insisted she would be okay, that she was going to make it, but Hunk wasn’t so sure. Lance had his own problems with his family and while they each talked about the things plaguing them, they tried not to dwell on them for too long. They were there to cheer each other up, not bring them down. Besides, Lance didn’t have time to help him bring his mom to and from her treatments or deal with the G.A.L.R.A. harassment at every hospital visit. They didn’t like the idea of radiation or chemical treatments. Something about them made the G.A.L.R.A. believe that they were a possible cause of the mutations in this generation. 

Hunk just really wanted his mom to get better. 

She did, eventually. It was a long year, but she got better and he and his mother were able to spend less time taking care of her. Hunk went back to full-time classes and he started his culinary arts courses again. Things were… better. Not great, but not as bad. 

 

**Four Years Ago:**

He finished school, got a job as a chef at a fancy restaurant in the downtown area. It wasn’t exactly what he went to school for and his parents weren’t the most pleased, but it was something he found on short notice and paid the bills. He’d find a high paying engineering job soon enough, he promised. 

For now, he loved his job. He was serving customers, making changes to a menu, cooking to his heart’s content. Lance appreciated the leftovers he brought home and would even take some to his family. He saw his moms every other weekend and a few weeknights when they stopped in at the restaurant. 

And then they started corralling mutants into what they called “safe havens”.

The pretense was that there was too much violence against mutants occurring and these communities were meant to keep people safe, but Hunk knew that wasn’t true. He knew the real reason was that the G.A.L.R.A. wanted to be better able to control the mutants, control them through their families. He helped the McClain’s move on the sunny Saturday afternoon they were forced out of their shitty little apartment and into a condo in the relegation zone. 

Hunks moms insisted that he quit his job, that he move back in with them and essentially move into hiding, but he refused. The G.A.L.R.A. didn’t have a way of identifying mutants yet. They only knew about the ones on the registry, and well, Hunk Garrett was dead, wasn’t he?

He continued to live his life. Going to classes, going to work. His mom worried and fretted and he let her. 

He wasn’t worried. Not really. Any more than he usually was, at least. 

His school blew up during his third year in undergrad and he couldn’t quite wrap his head around it. His old

academy, the place that had trained him for five years, that had taught him enough control for him to escape the G.A.L.R.A’s notice was gone. And with it, all the children who had been in attendance. The headmaster had refused to close the school, even after they were no longer allowed to use powers on the campus. “This is a home,” he had said, “They need somewhere to feel safe.”

There was nowhere now. Nowhere for mutant children to feel safe. Destroying his school had made the statement loud and clear. 

_ The second you think you are safe, you won’t be.  _

He wanted to move back in with his moms, but Lance wouldn’t be able to hold the apartment on his own if Hunk took his name off the lease. He’d be forced to move in with his family but his job wasn’t anywhere near the mutant community. 

So Hunk toughed it out. He stayed because his friend needed him and that was what friends did. 

 

**Three Years Ago:**

Lance disappeared not long after that. 

Hunk was watching the news one night when he saw the gated community closest to them on the television, nearly destroyed by a massive fire that was eating across the city center. He grabbed Lance, immediately, of course, and the man left in a flurry. Hunk wasn’t really sure what Lance planned to do, it was a fire for God’s sake, but Lance was gone before he could ask. 

He stayed up all night watching the news and then realized exactly what Lance planned to do. 

Lance was on the screen, water swirling around his finger tips. His eyes were red rimmed and it looked like he was screaming, his arms outstretched as he controlled the water surrounding him. He put out fires and G.A.L.R.A. soldiers indiscriminately, slamming men to the pavement with bone shattering force. Hunk’s moms called him as soon as the alert was put out for Lance’s life. They issued an armed and dangerous warning. Hunk didn’t care. He prepared for Lance to come home, got his bedroom all ready in case he decided to hide, packed a bag in case he decided to run, a bag full of food and nonperishable goodies that Hunk stayed up all night to bake, but Lance never showed. 

Hunk fell asleep somewhere around ten the next morning. He woke up on the couch, staring up at the blaring television as it showed Lance’s face over and over again.  _ Fugitive. Fugitive.  _

He called Katie. She didn’t answer. Was she gone too? He hadn't spoken to her in a while, but she wouldn't ignore his calls. 

He paced back and forth until he slipped on the rug in the kitchen and nearly cracked his head on the tile. He kept his fidgeting to productive activities after that, baking dish after dish and then leaving for more groceries when he ran out of things to make. 

It was after that he realized Lance might be gone. As in ran away, not coming back for Hunk or his things. And if he was really, actually… gone… did that mean the G.A..L.R.A were looking for him? That they might come here, to their apartment, to see if Lance returned? 

Hunk’s first instinct was to panic because he couldn’t have the G.A.L.R.A here. He couldn’t have them looking too closely into his past, his present, his future, whatever. They’d find out who he was and he’d be worse off than Lance. 

He grabbed the bag he’d originally packed for Lance, his phone, and keys. Hesitated. Took the car keys off the ring and set them back on the counter because they could find his car, couldn’t they?

They would find him anyway, he knew that deep down, but he liked to live in denial, alright? 

He walked to his mom’s apartment downtown. It took him three hours and he was a sweaty mess by the time he arrived, but it felt safer than having his car parked in the lot or being filmed in a taxi. He used his key to get inside, sat on the couch and waited for his parents to get home from work. 

He thinks now that he might have been in shock because he stayed on that couch for approximately three hours. Just sat and stared at the black T.V., trying not to panic or throw up or curl up into a ball and cry. 

His mom got home first. When she saw him she dropped her work bag onto the wooden floor and rushed forward, pulling him into a hug, “I’m so sorry, so sorry Hunk.”

She murmured to him soothingly as he cried on her shoulder. She waited until he could speak again and when he explained what had happened, that he was worried about the G.A.L.R.A. showing up, she confirmed it was a good idea for him to stay away from the apartment for a while. They both know that the G.A.L.R.A. would probably come looking at their apartment once they found Hunk’s and Lance’s empty, but they just… didn’t talk about it. Hunk didn’t have anywhere else to go. He wasn’t like Lance, wasn’t the kind of person who could just disappear and make it on his own. Lance was better than him, more resourceful and confident and Hunk just… wasn’t. 

It only took the G..A.L.R.A. til the next morning to find him. They knocked on the front door and his mother answered. She’d stayed home that day to make sure Hunk was okay, something he appreciated greatly. He still couldn’t get over the fact that Lance was gone, that his Lance was a mutant who was now classed as a level three fugitive. He’d had no idea. None. He wondered how that was possible, but then remembered that Lance probably had no clue Hunk was a mutant either and he had his answer.   
The door opened while Hunk was in the middle of one of these thought spirals, where he kind of lost himself for a moment in the fact that things were not what he thought they were. The G.A.L.R.A. burst past his mother and into the kitchen where Hunk sat, pressing a gun to his shoulder blades before he could stand. 

“Wha-” Hunk barely had time to croak out before the G.A.L.R.A. soldier barked, “Are you Harold Smith?”

“Yes!” Hunk exclaimed, holding his hands in the air above his head, “Yes! What do you want? If you want information, I don’t really have any but I’d be glad to tell you what I know, I just made some pasta salad, I can get it out of the fridge and we can have a little dinner and talk about things- are you here for Lance? Yeah, I mean, you gotta-”

“Stop. Talking.” The soldier commanded and Hunk clamped his mouth shut with an audible click, “Were you roommates with Lance McClain-Martinez. Yes or no?”

“Yes.” Hunk croaked and tried not to cry as the gun was shoved further into his back. That was going to bruise later. 

“Please come down to the office for questioning,” the guy asked, but Hunk knew it wasn’t really a question. It was a: go with them and live or stay and die. 

He didn’t want his mother to see that, to have to live through that, so he nodded quickly and the G.A.L.R.A. guy handcuffed him, propelling him forward out into the hallway. His mother was yelling something about how she was going to call a lawyer and she’d be by to see him this afternoon but he had a feeling he wasn’t going to be getting visitors anytime soon. And a lawyer? Forget it. That wasn’t how the G.A.L.R.A worked. 

He was going to be shoved in a deep dark hole somewhere in the back of a G.A.L.R.A facility, and if he was lucky, he’d see the sun again someday. 


	5. Hunk: No Pidge, Yelling Does Not Make The Leg Work Move Faster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunk's History, leading up to the present

**Three Years Ago:**

Altogether, Hunk spent about two weeks in the G.A.L.R.A. facility.

The first twenty-four hours were the standard interrogation, asking him questions about Lance, about his past, about where he’d been before he mysteriously appeared in this town. He gave them the standard backstory, about his adoption and how impoverished and off the grid he had been before. His moms would say the same thing, their stories would be straight like they always were. He trusted in his parent’s abilities to ensure that his alibi was airtight.

They left him in a dark cell with no food or water for two days after that. By that point, he was too out of energy to protest when they dragged him back into interrogation, asking the same questions. He gave them the same answers. He desperately wished he was somewhere else, anywhere else, that someone would come to bust him out of here and save him, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. He was stuck here until the G.A.L.R.A. were satisfied and let him go. As much as he wanted to leave, he didn’t want to be a fugitive. Not really.

For the next week, he was stuck in the cell again. It was always dark and he didn’t have contact with anyone for days at a time, but at least they fed him and let him drink from the small pitcher they supplied him. He imagined this was what a medieval dungeon must have looked like, all damp stone and a metal slab for a bed. Although they probably wouldn’t have had a flushable toilet like he did.

At his worst moments, he considered ridiculous ways to escape. Swimming through the pipes, using a spoon to dig his way out, stabbing a guard with a fork and running, stabbing himself with a fork and hoping they found him before he bled out. Stabbing himself with a fork and hoping they  _ didn’t  _ find him before he bled out.

Eventually, they yanked him to his feet and dragged him to attention in the hallway. The light hurt his eyes and he had difficulty staying upright but they didn’t seem to care that he was practically blind, “We’ve determined that you are not lying to us. Until we have proof otherwise, you are free to go, citizen.”

Oh,  _ now  _ he’s a citizen. Nice.

They didn’t give him a new pair of clothing back or any of the things they had taken from him when he entered the compound. He stood outside in the too bright sunlight with dirt smeared on his face and greasy limp hair and disgustingly rumpled shirt and jeans. He was missing a shoe, although he’s not really sure when that happened. He didn’t have his cell phone, his wallet, anything.

He hadn’t even called off from work. God he hoped his mom phoned in for him. She would know how to do it- she’d done it previously when he’d been so sick with the flu he hadn’t been able to get up off the bathroom floor for three days.

They hadn’t fed him in what felt like a day, he was starving and thirsty and tired but he walked anyway. He knew what part of town he was in, knew he wasn’t too far from the apartment he used to share with Lance, so he went there, trudging up the front steps with all the energy of a cooling lava pool. He forgot he didn’t have the key until he reached the door, staring down at the knob and the sophisticated safety precautions placed there. His head fell forward and he let it rest against the cool metal surface with a sigh, trying to work up the energy to go back to the first floor and see if his landlord was home.

Instead, the door swung inward and he would have fallen on his face if someone hadn’t been there to shove him upright.

“Lance?” he barely had the energy to ask, but the voice that responded was much too loud to be his best friend’s.

“Na, it’s Katie Holt. Sorry I had to kind of commandeer your place for a few days.”

“What? How did you get in?” he asked once he was able to straighten himself and step into the doorway.

She just smiled and shut the entrance behind him, adjusting her glasses, “Been a long time since I’ve seen you.”

“Yeah, like… what, two years?” he said, but he was too tired for this conversation. He was happy she was here, he really was, but he needed a nap and maybe a sandwich, stat.

“Sounds about right. But you look like you’re about thirty seconds from keeling over. We’ll talk after you get some rest,” she murmured, gently directing him toward his bedroom.

Hunk had about half a second to notice the tech equipment set up in his living room and wonder exactly how that had all gotten there before he was falling face first into a pillow and tried to forget about the past two weeks.

He woke up who knew how many hours later by a knock on the door. He was disoriented for a minute, wondering what the LED lights glowing in the corner were, wondering why his bed was so comfortable and not the metal slab he’d almost gotten used to, but then Katie opened the door and held out a plate with grilled cheese on it and it came rushing back.

She looked down at the plate and said, “This is all I really know how to make, I’m sorry.”

He shrugged, “The G.A.L.R.A. were giving me stale crackers for dinner, so this sounds amazing.”

She brought it in to him and sat on the edge of the bed while he scarfed down the meal. While he was licking his fingers, she began to twist her fingers together, picking at a nail bed, “Did you see any other prisoners while you were there?”

“No. I was alone,” he answered, taking a long drink of the water bottle that had appeared on his nightstand sometime during his nap, “Why?”

He regretted the question as soon as it was out of his mouth. Tears pricked at the corners of Katie’s eyes and she shook her head, “My dad and brother were taken at the same time that you were. Lance is missing too and I just… I was hoping maybe you’d seen one of the three of them. I came here so that if you came back I could maybe get some leads from you or Lance.”

“I’m sorry Katie-”

“It’s Pidge,” Katie interrupted, “I… I go by Pidge Gunderson now. My family kind of split up a little bit ago and I’ve got to be undercover.”

That sounded like a long story, one that Hunk could tell Ka-Pidge wasn’t quite ready to reveal yet. He didn’t ask, instead apologizing again, “I’m sorry Pidge. I didn’t see anyone. I don’t know what happened to Lance. I’ve been with the G.A.L.R.A. for at least two weeks, I’ve got no idea where he could have gone.”

Pidge’s head drooped and she sat in silence for a long moment before she said, “I knew it was going to be a long shot. But I couldn’t go home and put my mom at risk. I came here after I was sure they already searched it. I don’t think they really expected Lance to come back here and they had you. I can… I’ll leave though. They’ll probably be checking up on it now that you’re back.”

“You don’t have to,” Hunk said suddenly, kind of afraid that she’d go. He had to call his moms and let them know he was okay, but he didn’t think he could stand to be around them right now. They’d ask a lot of questions and give him a lot of affection and that just wasn’t something he was ready for after weeks of hardly any human contact, “You can stay here if you want. We’ll figure out a way to keep the G.A.L.R.A. off us if that’s what you need.”

“I’m fighting back against them,” Pidge growled, suddenly fierce, “I don’t want to put you in danger. I mean, if you want to join me, that’s great, but I am going to find my father and brother and I don’t want to put you at risk.”

“I… Listen, you can stay here for right now, okay? We can talk about the whole freedom fighter thing after I’ve called my moms and had about three more sandwiches,” Hunk’s mind was still jumbled, too overwhelmed and tired to even think about resisting, “We’ll take it one step at a time, okay?”

 

**Two and a Half Years Ago:**

Hunk decided to rent out his apartment to someone else. That someone being Pidge Gunderson, a kid that could fit anonymously into crowds and had a totally fake history that Katie made up. Hunk pretended to move back in with his moms and spent enough time there that the G.A.L.R.A. hopefully didn’t become suspicious.

Pidge finally showed him her power and Hunk showed her his. It was a relief, somehow, to even move just the smallest bit of dirt in the potted plant Pidge had just forced to bloom right in front of him.  

At first, he wasn’t into the whole idea of fighting against the G.A.L.R.A. He’d just escaped their clutches and didn’t really want to be back in them so soon. But things happened.

Things like watching his best friend’s face be plastered over billboards as the number one most wanted supervillain and seeing G.A.L.R.A. soldiers burning down the sanctuaries that mutants had called their own. There hadn’t even been a lot of unrest up to that point, there was absolutely no reason to set fire to all the gated communities. None. And yet, thousands upon thousands were being slaughtered.

Finally, after one particularly gruesome night where they had broadcast the raids on live television, Hunk agreed to help Pidge on an active basis. Tears streamed down his face from the awful images on the screen and he wanted nothing more than to vomit, but he stayed strong and vowed that he was going to do his best to prevent something like this from happening again.

Sure, he became more realistic about his contribution to the cause overtime, but he wanted to be a hero. He had for a long time, since he’d heard stories about Lance’s father.

His restaurant job was the perfect cover. G.A.L.R.A. officials frequented the establishment and he was able to listen in on conversations while taking orders and bringing individuals to their tables. Others were confused as to why Hunk offered to carry out such mundane tasks when he was so excellent in the kitchen, but he insisted it helped him feel more connected to the customers, to know what they desired and how to better serve them. The restaurant owners ate it up and soon he was working his first shifts with G.A.L.R.A. lieutenants seated right next to the kitchen entrance.

It was terrifying, trying to listen in without being caught, but he was able to do it. He learned about prison transports and what new companies they were thinking about hiring to boost their security. Pidge was so grateful for his information that she hugged him for what must have been twenty minutes and then bought him Chinese food from his favorite restaurant up the street.

He told his moms that he had found a girlfriend and felt insanely guilty about it, but he didn’t want to put them in danger. He had to tell them something - he was spending too much time over at his old apartment for them to think he was just working or hanging out with friends. They begged him to let them meet her and told him to invite her over to spend time with him anytime he wanted. It hurt to come up with excuses and once even asked Pidge if she would be willing to pretend to be his girlfriend for an evening, but they both agreed that it would not only be illogical but dangerous as well.

So he lied and he lied and every time he hated himself for it he remembered the darkness of the cell he was kept in, the look on Lance’s face when he’d revealed his powers on national television. He remembered Pidge’s expression when she told him that her family was missing and she wasn’t able to visit her mother any longer.

Funnily enough, that made the guilt all but shrivel and die.

 

**Two Years Ago:**

They get a rhythm down pretty quickly. Hunk picks up every Friday night shift he can because that’s when the G.A.L.R.A. tend to be out the most frequently, with the most alcoholic beverages ordered. He makes sure to make a special appearance at several tables to thank them for their service and ask if they enjoyed his food. They always said that they did and he always wanted to smash their faces into their cleanly licked plates.

But he got information. Lots of it. He learned routes and security measures and where hidden bases are located. It was never anything too top secret, but it got Pidge in the door, gave her some leads so that she knew which direction to hack in.

They bring in another waiter as well, a guy named Rover. He was a whiz with computer stuff as well, although not as good as Pidge. He recorded G.A.L.R.A. identification numbers from their payment methods, stole G.A.C. and whatever other information he could get from them. He had been part of the G.A.L.R.A. intelligence network back when the group was just a growing section of fanatics but left when they became too violent for his tastes. Pidge loved the guy and Hunk found him hanging out at his old apartment more nights than not. It wasn’t anything romantic- more like two people who were lost in the world brought together by their common despair.

Man, he’s poetic when he wants to be.

Anyway, it was great. He’d end a shift at the restaurant, go for a long walk that deterred any potential trails and then land at Pidge’s place. They’d talk about what he learned, go over any new tech they were deciding to try to install under the tables or in the floor or by the host's station and then he’d sneak out and walk back to his mom’s if it wasn’t too late. His coworkers teased him about still living with his parents, but he didn’t much mind. Everything was working in their favor. Pidge thought she might have a couple leads on her brother, Rover was making progress on a virus that could potentially infect G.A.L.R.A. files on mutants everywhere, stalling research and preventing them from spreading information about fugitive mutants.

Of course, since things were going so well, there was no way it could last.

 

**A Year and a Half Ago:**

Their little operation made it almost a year before they got caught.

Hunk wasn’t sure when the atmosphere began to change. Maybe after Pidge managed to shut down the power to the prison sector of a G.A.L.R.A. prison downtown and release three high-security prisoners or when Rover cloned their signature and stole a bunch of data from one of the hard drives from a law firm the G.A.L.R.A. use on South Main street.

More G.A.L.R.A. began to appear at the restaurant. And Hunk started to get nervous.

“Hunk, I’m just going to follow the guy. I’m not going to engage him,” Rover said, exasperated as they planned in Pidge’s apartment for their next heist.

“Yeah man, but I think they know something is up with the restaurant. I haven’t been getting any good intel all week and then we get this lead? It’s a lot more than usual,” Hunk was cooking, making them all dinner like he usually did when something was too anxiety provoking to sit still.

He’d gotten information regarding mutant-specific prisoners, and a top secret transport that was being made tonight by one of the guards that frequented Hunk’s establishment. Rover wanted to follow him, to plant a bug in his apartment maybe or hack his computer, but it seemed a little too risky for Hunk’s taste.

“It’ll be fine, Hunk,” Pidge said, her eyes directed on the screen in front of her, “Just go to your shift like normal. What if Rover just plants a tracker in the guy’s bag and we don’t actually go to his place until we scope it out?”

“That sounds a lot better,” Hunk sighed, relieved and Rover rolled his eyes.

“You two are no fun.”

“We’re less fun if we’re dead or in G.A.L.R.A. prison,” Pidge answered in a monotone voice and Rover gave her a subdued nod.

He and Rover went to work as usual that night. The bug was planted at some point during dinner. Hunk didn’t see it, as he was trapped back in the kitchen, but he got the thumbs up from Rover during a plate pass. Everything was fine and going smoothly and Hunk started to let himself breathe.

They left the restaurant together that night, since they both closed. They took the normal way across the Star River. Usually, they would split once they were across the bridge and take separate routes to Pidge’s place, but tonight a group of about five men crowded the other end of the structure.

Ice ran down Hunk’s back. Something was wrong. He knew it, and so did Rover, by the stricken look on his face.

He turned, intending to head back the other way and avoid confrontation, but there was a group of three G.A.L.R.A. soldiers on the other end now and they were trapped.

“Lovely night, isn’t it?” one of the soldier’s asked, and Hunk nodded nervously.

“Sure is.”

“Where are you two headed?” another guy spoke up.

“Home,” Rover babbled, “Long shift at work, just trying to get home and get some rest.”

“See, I find that hard to believe,” The first soldier said and Hunk could feel the hopeful part of him shrivel up and die, “You two don’t seem like the type to rest after such a productive evening.”

“What?” Hunk squeaked and nearly passed out when the soldier pulled Pidge’s bug from his jacket pocket. They’d been caught. It wasn’t just him who was going to suffer for this, but his moms and Pidge and Rover and Pidge’s mom-

He was moving before he realized it. Rover shouted his name, but raced after him, rushing the group of three guys. Rover took out one at the knees and began to grapple with the other, swaying back and forth on the brick of the bridge as they fought for advantage. Hunk didn’t have any combat training, none at all, but he did know how to use his ability. He had about thirty seconds of fear and doubt about using it to save his life before he ripped up bricks from the pavement and slammed them into the G.A.L.R.A.’s head.

Two guys were down. Hunk tore down the bridge at the center, making it nearly impossible for the other five guys to get to them. Problem was, they could still call for backup, and did. It must have been stationed nearby because a group of ten or more soldier’s hopped from a van, guns and bludgeoning weapons at the ready. Panic pounded through Hunk’s chest. He couldn’t fight them all, especially not with guns like that.

He took a bullet to the leg. He thought, or hoped, rather, that it was just a graze, but he couldn’t focus on the pain, on the white hot fire lancing up and down his calf. He started tearing apart the pavement, using it as a shield, to disrupt the soldiers, to do anything, really, but he was out of practice. It was years since he’d last used his ability and he could feel it draining him faster than he could knock down the enemy.

Rover was still wrestling with a guard, maybe the same one, maybe a different one. They’re getting precariously close to the rail and Hunk moved to warn him, stop him with a well placed slab of dirt, something, but then a man with a ginger moustache and a too wide grin appeared from nowhere in the middle of the fight.

“Come with me!” the man yelled, gesturing at a small disturbance in Hunk’s visual field. He couldn’t tell what it was, and didn’t have time to examine it more closely, “Hurry!”

“What?” Hunk shouted back, and then Pidge appeared out of the thickening mass of swirling darkness.

“Hunk, come on! We’ve been compromised. These people can help us!”

“I-” he ducked as a guard throws something like a spear at his head, “Shit, alright!”

“Rover!” Pidge cried, gesturing for their friend go join them, “Come on man!”

It was just then that Hunk remembered Rover’s position, remembered that he was supposed to have yelled, to have done something. He was mid motion, grabbing Pidge’s hand as he watched Rover stumble backward, his arms wrapped around the guard he’d been fighting with. The guard fell, hitting the rail with a dull  _ smack  _ as he flipped over it. His hands grip the fabric of Rover’s uniform and the dark haired man tripped backward, sliding headfirst over the bridge and into the rocky river below.

“NO!” Pidge screamed and then everything dissolved, turning to an ashy gray that sent tendrils of fear spiralling through Hunk’s soul. When he oriented himself once again, he realized that he was no longer on the bridge, no longer anywhere, actually.

“Rover!” Pidge fought against the ginger man, attempting to claw her way back the way they came, “Rover! Oh god!”

“I’m sorry, Pidge,” the man said, his expression more devastated than Hunk would have expected it to be, “There’s nothing we can do for him now.”

“No,” Pidge sobbed, “Not another one.”

No one knew what to say to that, so they didn’t say anything. Hunk wanted to ask about the place they walked through, the shadowed landscape of barren emptiness. Everything had a deep purple tinge to it, surrounding it. He couldn’t see the sky, or the ground below him really, but he knew it had to be there if he was walking on it. The ginger haired man led Pidge forward until Hunk finally picked her up and let her cry on his shoulder.

Finally, the shock began to wear off and Hunk finally asked, “What is this place? And who are you?”

“This is the astral plane,” the man said, tugging at his moustache, “And I am Coran Altea. I’m the resident healer for a small group of rebels called the Voltron Coalition. Or, well it will be. When we gather more supporters and all the mutants of Voltron.”

“What?” Hunk understood only about half of that, but wasn’t sure how to ask specifics.

“It’s alright. Allura will explain more about it when we get to Arus.” Coran mused, glancing up toward the sky, “Allura, dear, if you could bring us out now?”

The shimmering gray appeared once again. Hunk closed his eyes, too nauseous to watch, and when he opened them, he was standing in the middle of a living room. A white haired woman stood there, her hands outstretched in front of her. Two black haired men sat on the couch behind her, and a T.V. blared in the background.

The taller of the two men grunted and stood up to catch the wavering woman as she abruptly started to fall, “Damn it Allura, some warning next time would be nice.”

The woman shook her head and gently slapped at the man’s forearm, “You knew I was portalling them.”

“All you gotta say is like… incoming or something,” the other man drawled, the one who’s face Hunk couldn’t quite see because there was a lamp in the way. The first smiled. He glanced up and saw the three individuals standing in front of them and his grin faded.

“Coran, what happened? Are these the two other elementals?”

“Yes,” Coran stepped forward and took the woman that Hunk presumed to be Allura, “I’ll take her to bed. I didn’t know she’d be so drained.”

“She didn’t sleep much last night,” the man on the couch piped up and everyone's attention was suddenly on him, “What? She walked past me at like three while I was in the training room.”

“Keith-” the taller black-haired guy started, but the other interjected.

“Can you save the lecture til after we introduce ourselves to these two, very frightened, very traumatized mutants?”

The older man frowned but turned back toward Hunk and Pidge, “Sorry about all this, I know it must be confusing. I’m Takashi Shirogane, but you can call me Shiro. And that nerd over there is my little brother, Keith.”

Shiro hooked his thumb over his shoulder at Keith, who’s name and voice suddenly sounded very, very familiar. The guy leaned forward out of the way of the lamp and Hunk nearly dropped Pidge, “Keith? As in Keith Kogane, from high school?”

“No shit!” Keith said, his eyes wide, “Hunk? Is that Katie?”

“Yeah. She goes by Pidge now though and whoa. This is so weird dude.”

“I… I didn’t even know you guys had abilities,” Keith’s brow furrowed and he stood, moving closer to them.

“I mean, that was the point right? We were all trying to keep them a secret.”

“Yeah, I guess-” he started to say, but was then interrupted by a high pitch squeal. A young girl raced into the room, her black hair streaming behind her shoulders as she collapsed against Shiro’s knees.

“Papa!” she shrieked, “Liza won’t stop flicking me with water!”

“Charlie, you’re supposed to be in bed,” Shiro reprimanded, but the little girl would not be deterred. She suddenly seemed to notice that there were people other than her father and Keith in the room and immediately froze before darting behind her father’s legs.

“Hunk, where are we? What’s going on?” Pidge asked, finally rousing herself from Hunk’s shoulder. Hunk shifted so that she could slide her small frame to the floor, her red rimmed eyes darting around the room. His heart hurt just looking at her, but he had a lot of practice at keeping it together so that he could help others. He'd stay okay long enough for Pidge to process her grief and then he'd cry himself to sleep tonight. 

“We’re part of the Voltron Coalition,” Shiro explained, keeping one hand on the top of Charlie’s, and Pidge’s expression brightened.

“I’ve heard of you guys. You just generally fuck shit up for the G.A.L.R.A. across the country, don’t you?”

“That would be us,” Keith seemed much too proud of that fact, “We’ve been forced to keep a low profile recently ‘cause it’s really only us four right now.”

“But, hopefully, if you two are willing to help, we can remedy that,” Shiro knelt down and picked up his daughter, looking at them expectantly.

It was all a little much for Hunk. He’d just watched his carefully crafted life crumble around him. He wasn’t sure when he’d be able to see his moms again, wasn’t sure when he’d be able to show his face in public again and watched one of his closest friends fall off a bridge. His leg still burned where the bullet had scraped by his leg. He wasn’t really in the mood to join another rebel group so soon. 

“Okay,” Hunk said, staring down at his feet, “I just. Can we rest? It’s been a long day.”

“Sure,” Shiro said gently, darting a glare in Keith’s direction when the guy’s mouth snapped open, presumably to say something Shiro didn’t want him to, “If you have any questions, just let us know. Allura is the one who’s really the best at explaining everything.”

Keith led him to a room with a series of cots. He explained that they’d make up rooms for the two of them tomorrow, but for now, this would have to do. Coran came and checked on them a few minutes later, healing Hunk’s bullet wound right in front of his eyes and then he slept for sixteen hours straight.

He woke to Pidge poking his cheek with her finger. She looked weary, but not tired. More... emotionally exhausted and not prepared to deal with life. He curbed his impulse to be grumpy about being brought back to awareness in such an unpleasant manner.

“Yes?” He asked, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

“Just making sure you’re still alive,” she said, then seems to realize the words that came out of her mouth and visibly became smaller somehow.

“Yep,” he patted her knee, trying not to think about it, to let it slide off him. It didn't really work, but he pushed through the lump in his throat anyway, “Did I sleep long?”

She snorted.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

They found Allura in the kitchen that morning. And before they had even sat down to eat, she was telling them about Voltron.

She preluded this with her ability. That she could see into the future and knew that they were in danger. That she could create something like a portal to a place called the astral realm that transports both consciousness and body across the earth at a much faster speed than would be normally possible. That she brought them here because they are part of a group of five that she believed to be the key to bringing down Zarkon and the G.A.L.R.A.

“How?” Pidge asked, and Allura frowned.

“I’m not sure on the specifics yet,” she sighed, rubbing her forehead, “But we’re working on destabilizing their system currently, and it seems to be going well.”

Keith and Shiro joined them at some point. Allura explained that the four of them, along with a fifth she hadn’t been able to locate yet, were the ones who would form Voltron. Five mutants that could combine their abilities to create a power bigger than themselves. She was the connection to them all. Her father had the ability to change others powers as such, and had made her the anchor for this elemental ability. Eventually, they would all receive a piece of her consciousness melded with theirs that would form their Voltron bond. Honestly, it was a lot and Hunk remembers that whole time in kind of a fog, but that’s the jist of it.

It sounded cool and all, but they were still missing their fifth elemental. Something that Allura assured them wasn’t detrimental. They’d find him. And until then, he and Pidge would be able to continue their work with the Voltron Alliance’s help.

“I just have one condition,” he said in the ensuing silence, “You have to promise me my moms will be kept safe.”

Shiro clapped his hand on Hunk’s shoulder with a soft smile, “Of course. Family is our first priority.”

**Fifteen Months Ago:**

He met Shay during his third month with the Voltron Coalition. Hunk hadn’t really been involved with the missions yet, seeing as he was still training to fight and defend himself, but Shiro happened to take him on a test run to one of the refugee colonies nearby. They were a group of mostly humans who had relatives or were close to someone who had been a mutant. The G.A.L.R.A. shunned those that were pro-mutant life, so often they were forced to run, to form their own communities out of the watchful eye of their oppressors.

They were gathering supplies for the community. It was him, Shiro, and two siblings, Rax and Shay. He and Rax didn’t get along well, considering it was an earth user who had landed his sister and him on the run anyway, but Shay was kind and strong and helped him carry the huge jugs of water back into the safe zone.

They talked for a few minutes while Shiro debriefed with the the leader of the Balmeran Colony. She told him about her grandmother’s amazing stew and invited him to try it with them that night. It was all over from there.

Shiro let him stay with a small laugh and a shake of his head. He patted Hunk on the back and asked him, not told him, to be back before dark. Shiro never treated him like a kid, never acted like he was any better than any of them despite the fact that he was their leader and several years their senior.

And a dad.

Anyway, he stayed with Shay and they talked and talked and talked and he went back two days later for another recon mission, this time with Pidge. She teased him relentlessly about his connection with her, but he didn’t have much time to spend with Shay anyway because it was one of the first few times that he and Pidge had been on their own for a job. They had to remain focused and not let the others down.

He was slowly finding out that before he was taken by the G.A.L.R.A. and stumbled upon Pidge squatting in her house, she had been a part of the previous Altea Alliance. Shiro had as well, as had Allura obviously, since as Hunk was discovering her family were the founding members. Pidge had never been in contact with the other two, as they tried to keep identities a secret. Plus, Hunk could imagine that Pidge probably never left her tech station anyway.

That was how Pidge’s family was taken. They were involved with the Altea Alliance and somehow were captured. Hunk got the hint that Shiro was on a mission with them when it happened, but neither Pidge, nor Shiro seemed all that open to talking about it.

That was fine. They didn’t have to. The mission went well and Pidge went back to report their status while he stayed. He and Shay watched the sunset and discussed their families and it was honestly the best time he’d had in a really long time. He loved Pidge and hanging out with Keith and Shiro and Allura and Coran was really fun and the girls gave him no end of enjoyment but this feeling…this was what it meant to be content. And he hadn’t had that in what felt like forever.

He saw her every couple of weeks. At first, he made excuses just to go out and see her, but after a while, he didn’t bother. He didn’t know what he and Shay were but no one bothered him about it. If he was happy, then they were happy. It was nice, considering he couldn’t always talk to his moms about her, to have a different family who understood, a found family. A family like the Voltron Coalition was starting to become.

 

**One Year Ago:**

The first six months of the rebel alliance was a breeze. Well, no that wasn’t exactly accurate, it was hard work and Hunk felt like he was about to fall over from exhaustion all the time, but considering what was to come, it was like paradise. Hunk’s moms were relocated, he got to see them every three weekends and best of all, they were safe in one of Allura’s underground bunkers, far, far away from the G.A.L.R.A. and danger. There were other refugees there for them to socialize with, and last he heard, his mother was thinking about joining the bridge club.

They got along pretty well, him, Shiro, Pidge, and Keith. He liked Allura and Coran. He got to know Shiro’s two daughters, Charlotte and Eliza. Liza was six and Charlotte was four. Shiro was a great father, but he didn’t talk much about his family before they met Allura. Allura was their surrogate mother now, despite the fact that she and Shiro didn’t seem to be in any kind of romantic relationship. They’d had two fathers at one point, according to Eliza, but Hunk didn’t ask about it. It was something you just didn’t talk about, just like you didn’t talk about Keith’s family, Pidge’s brother and father or Lance.

Their missions were more successful than not and he was starting to see that the public was beginning to doubt the G.A.L.R.A. A lot of humans had had family hurt or taken as well and they were starting to see that maybe the G.A.L.R.A. weren’t all that they advertised themselves as. It helped to have Shay’s rebel group showing the conditions they were forced to live in, how they managed to fight back against the oppression they faced. Having humans who weren’t in support of the G.A.L.R.A. was probably the only reason that the public took notice of their declaration of war against the empire, but any progress was better than no progress in Hunk’s opinion.

Unfortunately, he was there the day Shiro was taken. And that was when everything kind of fell apart.

They were going to the financial district, to a stock trading tower. Their goal was to get in, plant Pidge’s virus, and get out. They were attempting to stop some of the business that went on there and cut off some of the G.A.L.R.A.’s vast financial wealth. Of course, nothing went as planned.

He didn’t see it happen. He heard it over the comms though, and that was enough for him.

He and Pidge were on the fourth floor in the server room. He was standing guard for Pidge when he heard through the device inserted in his ear a softly muttered cuss word.

“What’s going on?” he whispered, keeping his eye on the door. He was the guard, the guy who was supposed to be standing watch while Pidge did her thing.

“I think they knew we were coming,” Shiro murmured, and Hunk could hear the wind beginning to whistle through his mic, “Keith, you and I need to take care of them before they can get in and find Pidge.”

“Got it,” Keith confirms.

“We’ll keep them occupied on the first floor. As soon as you guys are done, use the emergency exits to get out of there.”

Shiro’s line went quiet for a minute and then there was the sound of grunting and of flesh meeting flesh. Keith’s battle cry was unmistakable as metal clanged, presumably Keith’s knife slashing against the barrel of a gun. There was a loud concussion of air and then a soft noise of surprise and a loud thud.

“Shiro!” Keith yelled, but it wasn’t his usual, ‘I need back-up’ kind of cry. It was a ‘there’s something wrong and nothing I can do about it’ tone of voice.

“Keith? What’s going on?” Pidge spoke this time, her words slightly muffled by the screwdriver she had clenched between her teeth.

“They darted Shiro. They’re taking him… somewhere, I’m in pursuit. He’s unconscious.”

“Are you okay?” Hunk asked, wondering if he should leave Pidge to her own devices to help. They couldn’t let the G.A.L.R.A. get away with Shiro. He had to-

“I’m fine. They got me too but it must have been a dud, or something, I don’t know. Shiro was out in like a half a second.” there was a grunt and then the unmistakable sound of metal being rent apart, “I’m almost on them, they’re-”

Keith’s words, which had sounded steady if somewhat out of breath, suddenly cut off.

“Keith?” Pidge asked, panic beginning to creep into her voice.

There was some rustling and then Keith’s voice came through the comms system once again, “Sorry, dropped the thing when I kicked the shit out of… of the… um…”

There was silence again for a moment and then Keith spoke again, sounding significantly more out of it than he had a second ago, “What the… fuck?”

“Keith I’m almost done,” Pidge tapped a few keys and then hit a button on one of the servers she’d been connected to, “We’ll come to grab you both. If you’re going to pass out, just stay put and we’ll get you.”

“No, I… My hand,” he sounded bewildered, scared.

“What about it?” Pidge said patiently, despite the anxiety that looked like it was screaming its way through every inch of her.

“It’s on fire.”

“Keith, that’s your power. Just put it out and go to sleep. Don’t fight it or it’ll be worse.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t what?” Hunk chimed in, unable to help himself.

“Put it out, I can’t,” there was a soft bang and then a thud. Some scratching noises, like fabric, was covering the mic and then Keith groaned, “Oh god, you have to leave. Screw the data.”

“I’m almost done-”

“No!” Keith shouted and both he and Pidge jumped, “Get out, please get out, that dart was… it...”

“We’re leaving,” Pidge assured him, slamming her laptop shut, “Should I come down and get you?”

“No,” he moaned and it wasn’t a sound Hunk thought he had ever heard Keith make before, “They took Shiro. They took him and… and you have to leave me. I’ll find you later, I promise.”

“Keith-”

“I promise,” he panted, “Mic’s gonna melt in a second. Go.”

Hunk realized then that the noise in the background of their conversation had been the crackle of fire. Fire wasn’t the plan, wasn’t ever part of the plan. Had Keith lost control? What was he doing down there?

“Come on, we’ve gotta leave,” Pidge said, but there were tears in her eyes as she grabbed Hunk’s hand and pulled him toward the fire escape.

“We can’t just leave them!” He protested, but Pidge shook her head.

“We have to.”

Hunk didn’t comment on the tear that dripped down her cheek and off her chin. She didn’t comment on his sniffle once they were out the window.

They made it to the ground just before the explosion.

“No!” Pidge screamed. Hunk pulled her back, held her as she kicked him and yelled Shiro's name, and Keith's name and raged and finally quieted, her face expressionless as she stared into the flames with tears streaming down her face.

They left in their getaway van, returning to Arus with two members of their team missing. Hunk didn’t want to see Allura’s face when he told her that her sort of coparent/best friend had been taken from her much like the rest of her family had, but he had to watch it crumple anyway, had to watch her punch at Coran when he tried to pull her into a hug, had to watch the rest of the coalition slowly collapse in on itself.

He wasn’t sure if Keith was dead or not.

Luckily, that was answered when Keith stumbled in just before sunset, nearly naked and covered in soot.

Hunk was the one who answered the door, who watched Keith sway and then collapse. He carried the guy to the infirmary, where despite Allura’s attempts to gain information, he remained completely silent.

Two days later, he finally looked her in the eye. She was so startled she nearly fell off the bed and her endless questions about where Shiro was finally halted.

“Shiro’s gone,” he said, his voice hollow and hoarse, “They took him and I killed them. They’re dead. All of them.”

Then he tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear, patted Hunk on the shoulder, slipped his bare feet into a pair of sneakers and walked out the door. No one saw him take his hover bike, but when they checked the garage later, it was gone and so was Keith.

The alliance didn't last long after that. It was only six of them after all. After they lost two operatives, it seemed nearly impossible to go on.

Hunk went to live with his moms in the refugee camp for a few months. Pidge came with him. Her mom was there, and the Holts and the Garretts had managed to become close during Hunk’s short stint as a hero. He still saw Shay, and video called her whenever she could get a signal, but it wasn't as regularly as he would have liked it to be. 

They look for Shiro. Of course, they do. Pidge added his name to the search, along with her brother and father, and Hunk does random patrols through the city when he can get away with it. He asked around to all his connections, wondering where Shiro went. Sometimes, when he was really desperate, he’d even ask about Keith. He knew the guy probably didn’t want to be found, but he was worried all the same.

Nothing ever gets turned up.

 

**Three Months Ago:**

He got a message from Allura while he was eating dinner with his moms, Pidge’s mom and Pidge herself. He was about to serve dessert when it comes through, the screen on his laptop flashing red to indicate its level of importance.

He watched the video with Pidge a second later. It was Allura, telling them she had a lead on Keith, Shiro and the fifth mutant, if they could please return to Arus.

It was hard to believe that she somehow managed it on her own, but she explained later that her visions were to blame. She’d seen where Keith would be in a weeks time and knew that Shiro was going to be transported. Coran had a possible candidate for the water elemental they needed. She was serious about getting the group back together, about rescuing Shiro and attempting to bring everyone back to the Voltron Alliance. Hunk wasn’t so sure that was a possibility, but he didn’t dare say anything out loud.

He and Pidge prepped all week for locating Keith. They weren’t sure if he was going to be hostile or not. He wasn’t always the friendliest of people, and while they considered him a friend, they weren’t sure what his mental state would be these days. He’d been practically mute the last time they’d seen him. Shay didn’t want him to go, but he knew he had to. If he was in the same situation as Keith, he hoped that his friend would come to pull him out of whatever self-destructive behavior he’d gotten himself into. He cried when he said goodbye to her. at the edge of her compound, but Shay just kissed him and said she’d always be there when he got back.  Whenever that was. He wasn't sure what his life would look like if they decided to get the coalition back together and that kind of terrified him. 

They found Keith just where Allura said he’d be. She transported them by astral plane to the middle of the desert and a shack there. There was nothing for miles and miles and Hunk wondered if Keith preferred the solitude out here.

“Keith?” Hunk asked, knocking on the front door, “Hey man, it’s Pidge and Hunk.”

There was no answer.

Hesitantly, Hunk shoved the door inward, surprised to find Keith asleep on the couch in the middle of the living room. The shack looked like it was one big room, and Hunk wondered if Keith had a bed stashed anywhere.

“Keith?” Hunk repeated. Pidge stood behind him, her hands outstretched and ready to use her abilities if she felt like she needed to. Hunk turned and shrugged at Pidge, who rolled her eyes and strode forward.

“Keith!” she shouted, but the guy didn’t stir. She frowned, glancing around the room until her eyes focused on a small pill bottle on the coffee table in front of Keith. Hunk’s heart sank into his gut.

“Is he dead?”

“No,” she scoffed, “No, it’s not what you think. These look kind of familiar, something my dad showed me that the G.A.L.R.A. were working on a while back. They’re power repressants, maybe?”

“Why would Keith need those?” Hunk wondered, but Pidge didn’t waste any time smacking Keith’s face lightly.

He startled awake, his hand on a knife before he was even sitting upright. While this wasn’t an unexpected reaction, it was still alarming to say the least.

“Pidge?” Keith squinted at the two of them, looking half asleep despite the fact that he was pointing a sharp implement in Hunk’s direction, “Hunk? What are you two doing here?”

“We think we might have found Shiro,” Hunk said, unsure of how to break the news in an easier way. Pidge shook her head at him exasperated.

Without a word, Keith started to pack his bag.

 

**One Day Earlier:**

It took weeks to find out where Shiro was being held. Keith spent most of his time in his room or training in the simulations. Hunk, on the other hand, spends a lot of his time with Shay outside of Arus, just walking through the refugee camp holding her hand. Reminding himself of why he’s doing all this, why he’s trying to keep the Voltron Coalition together.

Allura began to have vivid visions of the fifth paladin. Hunk wondered why now, why all of a sudden, but when he asked, all anyone told him was, “Fate willed it so,” which just didn’t really make much of any sense at all. He didn’t argue though, because Coran and Allura are running themselves ragged and without Shiro around Allura’s  the sole caretaker for his two girls. Everyone did their best to help out, Keith especially, but for some reason, Allura seemed rather annoyed with him. She kept his interaction with the girls to the bare minimum, only allowing him to see them alone when she had no other choice.

Finally, Allura called them all together to let them know she had a lead on the fifth paladin, the water elemental. As soon as she started to describe who they were looking for, Hunk knew.

“That’s Lance,” he said and immediately all heads turn toward him.

“What?” Pidge exclaimed and Hunk shrugged.

“You’re literally describing Lance. Short brown hair, blue eyes, speaks Spanish? Add that, plus water and that’s Lance.”

Keith wasn’t at this particular meeting, something Hunk was grateful for. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have spoken so freely. He wasn’t sure if the rivalry between the two had been a mostly Lance thing or something that was reciprocated by Keith, but just in case he thought it might be best to keep the information from the angry black haired man as long as possible.

“I think I know where this… Lance, is, although I know him by a different name,” Coran said and this time everyone turned to stare at him.

“Well?” Allura prompted and Coran grimaced.

“I… well, I may have just sent him to spy on Lotor. And maybe, just maybe, lost communication with him once he entered the G.A.L.R.A. facility.”

“You WHAT?”

 

**Several Hours Before:**

“What are the chances that the fifth paladin and Shiro are in the same place, huh?” Hunk said for the fourth time. Keith just closed his eyes and took a slow, steady breath.

“Yeah,” he answered, in a robotic tone, the same voice he’d answered in the last three times.

“I just-”

“Hunk, I know you’re nervous, but we all know the plan,” Keith snapped and Hunk shut his mouth with an audible click. Pidge was in the front seat of the van with Coran, leaving him and Keith in the back, clutching onto the safety straps so they slide as little as possible on the back bench seats.

They hadn’t told Keith they knew the identity of the fifth paladin. They all agreed it was probably just safer that way. Keith hadn’t been the same since he came back a few months ago. He’d always been volatile and his power unpredictable, but now it seemed like he had essentially no control over his mutation or his temper.

They’d get Lance while Keith was distracted with Shiro and hopefully, they could keep the two of them apart long enough that there would be no unhappy accidents like there had been a year ago.

They managed to sneak around the back of the G.A.L.R.A. facility using some of Pidge’s tech to short out their cameras. There was a tense moment when Hunk and Keith took a second to finish suiting up in the back of the van. Keith hadn’t worn his Voltron made armor in almost a year and Hunk wondered if he felt awkward in it. If that was the case, he didn’t say anything.

The two of them hopped outside of the sliding door and Keith paused for a long moment, shaking out his hands. He rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck and let out a long breath that sent Hunk’s anxiety ratcheting up to a thousand.

“Are you going to do the thing man?” Hunk whispered and Keith’s eyes landed on him with something like frustration hidden behind his dark visor.

“Hunk-”

“Yeah I know, I’ll shut up.”

There was another long pause. Keith sucked in a sharp inhale, almost a gasp and then his hands were on fire. Hunk stepped back, nervous, and Keith’s head bowed as he placed his hands on the wall and  _ shoved. _

Hunk wasn’t really sure how he did it, but he somehow converted whatever created the fire on his skin into a low level explosive. The fire burned white hot, scorching a large jagged hole in the brick that radiated heat. Keith sagged as he shuffled back, surveying his work with a small frown.

“Nice job!” Hunk exclaimed as he passed by his teammate. He moved to pat him on the shoulder, but at Keith’s flinch, he hesitated, hiding the motion as a movement to adjust his armor.

“I’ll get Shiro, you get the fifth paladin,” Keith’s voice was low, dark, dangerous, and Hunk almost felt bad for any G.A.L.R.A. that stood between Keith and his brother.

Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!! Thank you so much to everyone who has been leaving them.   
> Just as a general comment, changes will probably not be made in history information despite new information regarding paladin backstories most likely being revealed in Season Seven. Unless its some huge difference that would have a positive effect on the story or different pairings that are something I wholeheartedly agree with, there likely will be few edits to chapters already posted. That said, Klance will 100% not be changing, and there will at least be minor past Adashi in future chapters.


	6. Hunk: If Things Could Not Go Badly Now, That'd Be Great

**Now**

He lays Keith on the cot next to Shiro. Lance doesn’t seem to be injured in any way, just plops down on the seat next to Shiro’s bed and puts his head in his hands. 

“Hey man, are you okay?” Hunk asks. Lance slowly raises his head to stare at Hunk, a bewildered

expression on his face. 

“No,” Lance says, letting his hands fall back into his lap, “No I am very much not.”

“I guess that was kind of a stupid question, wasn’t it,” Hunk says with a wry smile. Thankfully, Lance doesn’t answer. It’s becoming increasingly obvious to Hunk that they haven’t seen each other in three years. Haven’t talked, in three years. Lance used to be his best friend, but this man in front of him is not someone he recognizes. “I guess you want to know what’s going on?”

“Yeah,” Lance says, staring down at his fingers. He’s obsessively weaving them together, over and over. He’s still got cuffs on, the power canceling ones that can’t be comfortable. 

“Let me get those off a second,” Hunk says, and Lance shoots him a grateful look, “Have you heard of the Voltron Coalition?”

“They were a bunch of rebel fighters a couple years ago,” Lance says dully, “They disappeared.”

“We’re them,” Hunk shrugs as he kneels in front of Lance, placing his hands over the metal cuffs. He hopes he can manipulate the material same as he was able to on the last model, “Keith, Shiro, Pidge, Allura, Coran and I used to be the Voltron Coalition until Shiro was taken captive.”

_ And Keith went missing,  _ he thinks, but that’s something Keith should decide to share… or not to share. 

“You-” Lance’s eyes are wide and that’s more the like the Lance he knew from high school, the excited boy who loved life and all its wonders, “You’re a part of Voltron?”

“Yeah. And you are too, now. We’re a group of five mutants who all have some level of connection with each other, who are able to combine our strength through Allura’s abilities. Or well, they were her fathers, but he was able to manipulate her astral plane power so that it can function as a place for us to share our energy. She tried to explain to me how it worked once and essentially I determined it’s magic, but she insists there’s a science to it somewhere.”

Lance is still staring at him with that dumbfounded look, so Hunk continues, hoping he isn’t rambling as badly as he feels like he is, “Allura has visions of the future, so she was able to find the four of us and bring us together. We were in the middle of locating you when we ran the mission where Shiro was taken and Keith… lost control.” 

He wants to make sure that Lance understands that whatever happened that day with Keith wasn’t on purpose. He doesn’t know the full story and he wouldn’t tell it even if he did, but it’s important Lance doesn’t keep using it as a weapon against Keith. It’s not healthy for anyone if Keith keeps spontaneously combusting. 

“So that’s how you knew I was captured,” Lance says. Hunk concentrates on the metal of the cuffs for a moment and the steel surrounding his wrist begins to separate as individual grains are pulled apart. It takes a lot more energy to manipulate manufactured metal rather than something that comes directly from the earth, but after a moment Lance is free. He throws the cuffs to the other side of the room, where they clatter against the wall loudly. Lance shoots a quick look at Keith, probably to see if he’s still asleep, but Keith has just been darted with enough tranq to down a horse and a level of power suppressant to match. Not that Lance knows that, but still. 

“He’ll be down for a few,” Hunk reassures Lance, who relaxes back into his chair. “Yeah, Allura had a vision of you being taken captive by Lotor. It was just luck that you and Shiro were in the same cell.”

He’s sure Lance wouldn’t call that luck, but Hunk has seen enough shit to know that it was probably nothing less than divine intervention. 

Coran steps back into the room and begins to fuss with Shiro’s blankets, gently laying his hand over the man’s forehead. He frowns but doesn’t say anything, letting Hunk continue with his explanation. 

“Now that we have you, we can do the ritual or magic or whatever that allows us to become all connected. I guess it’s not an overnight process, it’s something we have to work on, but Allura thinks with all our abilities together we can defeat Zarkon and the G.A.L.R.A.”

Lance perks up at that, his blue eyes darting to Hunk’s, “Really?”

“Really. We don’t have much of a plan yet other than to turn the public against them so that when we do get rid of the G.A.L.R.A. humans will be more accepting of mutants. Allura’s mother had the gift of prophecy as well, and she’s the one that predicted we would someday be victorious. Or. At least that’s what Allura says.”

Something sparks behind Lance’s eyes and his mouth falls open, “Oh my god, Allura Altea? Allura of the Altea Alliance, the group of people that were publicly murdered on television? Holy shit, I saw her mom make that prediction. I never… wow. I didn’t think in a million years that it would be about me.”

Hunk winces, “Yeah, maybe don’t mention that in front of her. But she’s the same girl.”

“Damn,” Lance whistles, rotating his arms through the air now that they’re free, “That’s… intense. This whole thing is just wild.”

“That’s an understatement,” Hunk says with a shake of his head and Lance laughs. At that sound, it's like all the awkwardness fades away and they’re just Lance and Hunk, best friends from high school again. 

“So you’ve got powers, huh? You, Pidge and Keith? Sheesh, apparently I’m oblivious.”

“Na, I don’t think any of us knew back then. We were all trying to hide it,” Hunk grabs the metal tool box on top of the plastic table they have set up in the corner. There’s some smelling salts in there he can use if Keith doesn’t wake up on his own in the next few minutes. Usually, his metabolism burns through the tranqs in around fifteen minutes, but sometimes Allura’s a little heavy on the dosage. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Lance is quiet for a second, then glances over his shoulder at Shiro and Coran, “Is he gonna be alright? Takashi, I mean?”

“You can call him Shiro, he won’t mind,” Hunk isn’t sure how much to reveal about Shiro, about any of them, really. They all have their secrets, their things that they don’t want strangers to know, and despite the fact that they’re all familiar with Lance, he still isn’t quite part of the inner circle yet, “He… yeah, he should be alright. Coran will take good care of him. We won’t know for sure until he wakes up, obviously.”

Lance is still oriented toward Shiro. The silence begins to feel awkward again and Hunk desperately tries to recover the former feeling of comradery, “The G.A.L.R.A. had him for a year. We’ve been trying to locate him. He’s… well, he’s Keith’s older brother, so if it seems like his reaction earlier was a little overboard, that’s why.”

“Still doesn’t excuse him going after me like that,” Lance says sharply and Hunk frowns. 

“Oh, yeah, no, I know, he’s got some issues with his temper that he’s working on,”  _ or at least he was, before Shiro went missing,  _ “And he can be kind of an ass until you get to know him, but he really does just care for Shiro.”

“Hunk, he started his entire body on fire and tried to kill me.”

“Yeah, see, I did say he’s an ass, right?” Hunk gives Lance a weak smile. Lance finally smiles back, shaking his head. 

“Does he really have that little control over his power?”

_ Normally, he doesn’t have any power at all,  _ Hunk wants to say, but he doesn’t, “Uh, it’s really only when he’s upset. He doesn’t use his abilities much.”

A look of something that might be understanding flits over Lance’s expression and is gone. He shifts in his chair, then turns fully to face Hunk again, “So let me get this straight. Everyone here controls an element?”

“I’m earth, Keith’s fire, Shiro’s air, Pidge is plants, You’re water,” Hunk lists. 

“And Allura is spirit,” Lance muses. Hmm. Hunk hasn’t really thought of it that way before, but he supposes that’s about right, “Is Coran an elemental?”

“Not in the slightest!” Coran chimes in from his place by Shiro’s bedside, “I’m what one would call a low level healer. I can speed the healing of injuries at the cost of my and the injured’s stamina.”

“Handy,” Lance says, nodding, “Alright, so everyone’s got powers. We’re five elementals who through Allura are supposed to join abilities and fulfill a prophecy that states we’re going to essentially kick Zarkon’s ass from here to Mars.”

“Yep.”

“Cool.” Lance runs his fingers through his hair, “I’m in, man, this is great.”

It’s about what Hunk expected Lance’s reaction to be, but it’s still a relief to hear the words, “Any other questions?”

“Yeah, what the hell is this place?”

“Allura’s family used to own this place. It was one of the warehouses where they would manufacture some of her father’s tech. It shut down when all the G.A.L.R.A. business began and we’ve been using it as our hideout in recent months. We call it Arus.”

“Damn,” Lance says, staring up at the ceiling that soars high above their heads, “This is… a lot.”

“Yeah-” Hunk cuts off his apology when he hears Keith begin to stir behind him, “Yeah, I mean, I’m sure you’re going to have a lot of questions as we go, but it’s okay if you can’t think of them all right now.”

He stands and grabs the bucket they keep next to this cot. One of Keith’s eyes is starting to slide open and his fingers spasm awkwardly as Hunk plops the bucket on Keith’s lap, within easy grabbing range. 

Lance looks at him strangely but doesn’t comment, “What do you guys… do, exactly?”

“We harass the G.A.L.R.A. usually. We haven’t made any big move recently because we’ve mainly been looking for you and Shiro. As soon as we found out that you were the one Allura had been seeing in her visions, we went to grab you, but you’d already been taken.”

“Lotor is a much better fighter than I’d peg the little nerd to be,” Lance says with a grimace and Hunk’s eyebrows rise. 

“Holy shit man, you fought Lotor? That’s nuts!”

“Tell me about it,” Lance starts, but stops talking when Keith finally pries both of his eyes open and starts to sit up. Keith glares blearily at Hunk and the Lance, something Hunk knows is born more of confusion rather than anger.

“Hey buddy,” Hunk says, pushing the bucket closer to Keith’s face, “How you feeling?”

“Mmm,” Keith puts up a finger to tell him to wait and then leans over the bucket. Nothing happens for a long moment and then Keith retches, his shoulders hunching with the effort. Lance’s face twists into disgust and he covers the lower half of his face. Keith wraps his arms around the lip of the bowl, resting his forehead on the back of his hands. His voice is muffled by the interior of the bucket as he says, “Spectacular Hunk. What the fuck happened?”

“You went ballistic and tried to kill our new recruit, Lance,” Hunk answers conversationally. 

He can practically hear the gears turning in Keith’s head as the memory comes back to him and he sighs, “Shit.”

“I think you mean ‘sorry’” Lance says sourly from his seat, his arms crossed over his chest. 

Keith lifts his head and stares at Lance for a long moment. He doesn’t say anything, but breaks his gaze before Lance does, turning to blink at Hunk, “We got Shiro?”

Hunk can see Lance seething. He feels kind of bad for the guy, but also knows that Keith isn’t an unreasonable person. Lance must have done something to piss Keith off, and sure that didn’t mean he deserved what happened to him, but it did mean that Hunk wasn’t going to proke at this particular problem, “Yeah. He’s resting. They… they took his arm.”

Keith’s head falls against the bucket. His eyes are closed. Hunk knows that if Keith wasn’t on extra power represent, something would have likely turned to ash by now, and he once again mentally thanks Coran for coming up with the idea of a dart gun. 

Allura chooses right then to poke her head into the makeshift hospital, her white hair falling gracefully around her face, “The girls would like to come in. Is that possible?”

Hunk defers to Coran for approval and hopes he says yes. The girls are just the distraction they all need right now.  The ginger haired man nods, “Shiro should be stable for now. I’m hoping that he’ll be up and around by tomorrow, but they can come to see him now.”

Immediately, two small forms race inside. Eliza is first, like she usually is. She just turned eight and for her birthday, Allura gave her two butterfly hair clips that are never out of her hair. She’s got them in her small black braids right now as she soars past everyone and jumps onto her father’s bed, clutching at his chest. She’s sobbing, her small arms barely making it halfway around Shiro’s waist, “Papa!”

Charlotte follows after her. She’s a bit more reserved, standing behind Liza with a frown on her face. She pats Shiro’s foot awkwardly, looks like she’s going to cry, but then she notices that Keith is awake. 

“Big!” she shouts and leaps across the space between them, collapsing into Keith’s arms. Keith barely manages to get the bucket out of her way before he’s got his hands full of six year old. 

“Little!” he says in the voice that he reserves just for Charlie. It’s softer, kinder, and it never ceases to amaze Hunk every time he hears it. 

Keith has been gone for the past couple weeks following up on leads. Charlotte always misses him when he’s gone, always made a point about asking where he was and what he was doing. Keith was her favorite uncle, and Charlie was Keith’s favorite niece. He knew that Keith loved Eliza too, just as much, but there was something different about the way he looked after Charlie. 

“I can’t believe you’re back and you brought Papa too, I was scared when you went all fire and stuff and I thought that maybe Papa wasn’t okay but then Mama said he was,” Charlie chatters. Keith plays with her hair, pulling a couple snarls from the ends of the silky straight jet black strands. Papa is Shiro, of course, and Mama is Allura. The girls know that they’re not together, but at this point, with Shiro having been gone for a year and often away on business before that, Allura has taken over the role as their primary caretaker. Keith tries to pick up the slack when he can, but this past year has been difficult. They reserve the word “father” for the one they don’t speak of, the mysterious Adam that no one ever mentions. Sometimes Hunk wonders if he even existed, if he’s imagining the word whispered behind closed doors at night sometimes, but then Eliza will wake up from a dream in which both of her dads are alive and with her and Hunk berates himself for his stupidity. 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he says softly and Charlotte pats his cheek gently. 

“It’s okay Uncle Keith, I’m not mad. When’s papa gonna wake up?”

“Tomorrow, hopefully,” Hunk answers and Charlie launches herself at him, her little legs kicking Keith in the stomach as she goes. He turns green and Hunk really hopes he doesn’t throw up again. They really need to work on getting rid of the nausea side effect of the stuff they use to put Keith under because Hunk doesn’t know if his own delicate digestive system can handle any more of this. 

“Uncle Hunk!” she shouts gleefully and he wraps her up in a hug. 

“Hey LeeLee, did you miss me?” he asks and she nods vigorously, “I was only gone a few hours!”

“Yeah but I didn’t get to make lunch with you,” she pouts, her big gray blue eyes widening, “Can I help make dinner this time? I know it’s Liza’s turn-”

“You can both help me with dinner,” Hunk says. She makes a small noise of protest when he sets her on the ground, but then she’s off again, bouncing toward where her sister and Allura are sitting around her papa. 

Keith has his head back in the bucket, but he seems to know that Hunk is looking at him, “Thanks man.”

Charlie loves to help Hunk in the kitchen and if she missed her turn today only for Eliza to have one, saying she would be upset would be an understatement. It’ll be hard to get anything done while the two of them are in there together, but he’ll make it work. 

Lance is giving the both of them confused looks, then says to Keith, “Is she your daughter?”

Keith chokes on nothing and straightens, his face purple, “Hell no, she’s Shiro’s.”

Lance still has the same expression on his face, but he relents, leaning back in his chair, “I didn’t know Takashi Shirogane had kids.”

“Has,” Keith bites out, clearly upset by the use of past tense, “He has two daughters, Eliza and Charlotte. He doesn’t advertise that fact because he doesn’t want them to be in danger.”

“Are they Allura’s?” Lance questions. It’s an innocent enough thing to ask, but Keith takes a long time to answer. 

“Eliza is sort of, I guess,” Keith says finally and Hunk is so surprised to find this out that he sits down in the nearest chair and tries to hid his shock, “Allura was Shiro’s surrogate. Before all this went down, Shiro was married to a guy named Adam. They had Eliza and then adopted Charlotte two years later.”

“Oh,” Lance says, as if realizing he’s just asked a question that was much more personal than he intended. 

All of this is news to Hunk. They don’t talk about their past, so much so that it’s become almost a religion around here, a sense of spirituality that Hunk calls “the things we don’t talk about” when it’s just him and Pidge. 

As if thinking of Pidge summons her, the little gremlin pokes her head into the med bay, her honey brown hair in disarray, “Everyone still alive in here?”

Keith chooses that moment to lose what little he had for breakfast once again. Pidge’s nose wrinkles and she says, “So it’s like that then.”

Keith straightens and swipes his mouth on the back of his hand, “Yep.”

Lance reaches over to the side table without a word, pulls a wipe from the packet perched there and tosses it in Keith’s direction. The black haired man just stares at the other. 

“What am I supposed to do with this.”

“Clean your hands, you heathen.”

Keith does so, with slow deliberate movements and then snaps the cloth back in Lance’s direction. It lands on the younger man’s lap, who immediately begins to shriek. Pidge rolls her eyes at Keith who shrugs innocently as if to say “what? It was an accident.”

Lance’s words finally make it back into the audible spectrum and Hunk realizes he’s insisting on a shower. Now that’s something Hunk can help him with. 

“Shower? I can do that,” Hunk says, hoping that his relief doesn’t color his tone too much. Getting Keith and Lance apart for a while seems like a good plan, “You must be feeling pretty gross after spending all that time in the cell.”

Lance mumbles something that Hunk can’t quite make out that has Keith bristling again, but then Hunk is ushering Lance out of the room and into their makeshift hallway before anymore words can be exchanged. He keeps his hand on Lance’s back because while he’s certain that the old Lance would never have turned around and tried to attack Keith, he’s much, much less certain about this one. 

“He's…” Hunk starts to say,  _ He’s been through a lot,  _ but they all have. Saying that isn’t going to help Keith’s cause, “He’s just a little groggy is all, from the medication. He’ll warm up to you eventually.”

“I hope he doesn’t,” Lance frowns, “Man, I never liked that guy. He’s even worse as an adult.”

Hunk doesn’t say anything, because he isn’t really sure what there is to say. He knew the two of them weren’t going to get along. He knew it the moment Allura told him that Lance was the new blue paladin, the water elemental to join their ranks.  _ That’s  _ why he hadn’t told Keith who they were rescuing. In hindsight, he probably should have, because Keith doesn’t really do well with surprises, but at the time he’d been working with the tools he had. 

“This is your room,” Hunk says, almost woodenly. This isn’t what he was hoping his reunion with Lance would look like after all this time. Not in the slightest, “There’s a shower rigged up in the corner, it’s not the best but we tried to make it as private as possible since there aren’t you know… walls.”

Lance hesitates before entering the room, “I have this friend, that I left behind. Any way I can go see her and maybe bring her back here?”

“Yeah sure, she’ll have to pass Pidge and Allura’s screening process, but I don’t see why not.”

There’s another awkward moment and then Lance is pulling Hunk into a hug. They stand there in the hallway, the harsh fluorescent lights turning everything a washed out pale color that Hunk will always be sick of, “Thanks man. For everything. You were there for me when a lot of people weren’t. I’ve… I’ve really missed you, ya know?”

“Missed you too,” Hunk croaks and he’s pretty sure that if they hug a second longer he’s going to cry, but Lance pulls away, stepping cautiously into his new bedroom, “I’m going to clean up and then pass out. See you tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Hunk says and he’s so so glad to know that he means it. Lance is back. He doesn’t have to worry anymore about what he could have done, how he could have saved his best friend because Lance is alive and he’s here and  _ Hunk is going to see him tomorrow.  _


	7. Pidge: That's So Sad, Alexa Play Despacito

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Guys! Sorry for the late update. With season seven coming out things got a little out of sorts. However! Things should be back on track :)  
> Pidge's history is only one chapter, to avoid repeating too much of this world's history that we already know. There is a decent amount of swearing, because Pidge and Keith.  
> Enjoy!

**Twenty Three Years Ago:**

Katie Holt was born to Samuel and Coleen Holt on a really shitty night in April. Her parents weren’t able to make it to the hospital before she was born on the side of the freeway. Luckily her father had about thirty (okay it was three) different degrees, one of them allowing him to practice as a medical doctor, so he was able to save both the lives of his wife and his daughter. Matt always teased her that for someone so eager to come into the world, she’s surprisingly eager to die. Not literally, but apparently her frequent use of memes lead Matt to the conclusion that she had lost her will to live. 

Anyway, by the time she was born, her father was already a prominent name in the superhero community. He could control technology with his mind, had the aforementioned doctoral degrees and was all around a genius. Her brother developed the ability to bring to live inanimate objects. They were big shoes to fill but she wanted to be just like them when she grew up.

 

**Eighteen Years Ago:**

She wasn’t just like them and would  _ never  _ be like them. 

She got her powers when she was five. Her parents celebrated, despite the fact that people egged their house every other night because of her father’s abilities. She loved computers, loved numbers and calculations and everything that her dad and brother loved but her power wasn’t anything like theirs. 

Instead, Katie was stuck with stupid plants. 

She could feel them everywhere, it seemed like. The weeds in the cracks of her driveway, the potted plants on the windowsills, the old oak tree in their backyard. She hated it. She wanted something useful, something good. Her mom told her that her power  _ was _ good, was pretty special actually, but Katie didn't want it. 

She wasn't old enough to go to school yet. That's probably the only reason she survived the next ten years if she’s being honest. 

The party was small. Just the Holts and a couple of their friends. They cut a cake with little vines on it and Katie tried not to cry. 

 

**Seventeen Years Ago:**

She was supposed to attend school in the fall, but her mom kept her home. She said it wasn't safe there, that she should stay in the house where she could use her powers and learn school work. She was beyond her peers in material anyway, her mom told her, and she'd get bored with the course work. Why learn sit through learning to read again when she could be learning binary code? 

She was homeschooled that year. Her dad was home a lot more, so he could teach her all kinds of stuff. He taught her how to control her power, a little at least. His abilities were pretty different from hers, so it was Matt who taught her how to stop the plants around her from shooting up toward the sky every time she walked past them. He sat with her and helped her figure out how to control her anger, how to stop her from strangling someone (him) when she got angry. Her mom and dad taught her the difference between good and evil, but her brother taught her the consequences of her actions. 

She didn't see a lot of other kids her age, which was fine. Even though Matt was seven years older than her and in high school, he was still her best friend. 

Her mom had a very strict policy regarding who Matt could spend time with. She had that for Katie too, but Katie did not leave the house, really, and so there was nothing to worry about. Matt came home before dark every night and kept a cell phone with him at all times and checked in every hour. Pidge thought it was a little silly, but after Matt called one night and her dad had to pick him up and bring him home with bruises dotting his cheeks, she took back everything. 

 

**Eleven Years Ago:**

When the G.A.L.R.A. first appeared in the news, their rally was small. Her mom was worried, but her father said that the government would take care of it, that the people wouldn't let it get out of hand. 

It got out of hand pretty quickly. 

The group grew exponentially. She watched as people she knew, neighbors and family friends were taken in by the motto of the group. “They're not trying to hurt anyone,“ they would say, “they're trying to keep everyone safe. Even mutants.”

But Katie wasn't stupid. She knew better. She might have been only thirteen, but she was already helping her dad with some of his smaller computer projects and coding her own programs. Matt was in an accelerated program in college at the age of seventeen and he’d already been on several missions with their father, rescuing people. Her mother had protested it, but her father insisted that Matt learn how to do this with proper instruction, rather than trying to figure things out on his own. 

No one was around anymore who remembered that Katie had powers, except her family of course. The family friends who had come to her party so many years ago had moved away and probably forgotten about her. Her mother kept her inside as much as possible, away from prying eyes. She had control over her abilities, knew how to use them relatively well, but she knew she had no where near the level of mastery that her father and brother had. It didn’t bother her much, though. She’d never wanted these kinds of powers to begin with. She liked being inside, working on her computers, avoiding people and nature and things that just didn’t agree with her. 

 

**Ten Years Earlier:**

What she’d been dreading for years finally came to pass. 

Not the law banning hero work, that was horrible to be certain and left her family in a terrible position, but what was even worse, at least in her opinion, was the fact that her mother was making her go to  _ high school.  _

A regular, normal, everyday high school where it was expected that you take regular everyday courses. Meaning she got stuck with all the other freshman learning about how to complete a circuit and re-reading Hamlet. It was boring and awful and she absolutely hated it. 

At least until she got to her intro to engineering course, the only elective she was allowed to register for. She met Hunk there, one of the most friendly people she’d ever met, who didn’t judge her for her family history. He was in the year ahead of her, and was already best friends with Lance, a boy that she recognized for some reason. It took her way too long to place him, but when she finally realized that his family was in the same situation as hers, that he had a famous superhero as a dad as well, they kind of bonded over it. It wasn’t an overt “we’re friends now” but more of a silent support over things that only that they would understand. She stopped making fun of his flirting so much and he stopped teasing her about always having a nose in a book and the three of them together became the only reason she even bothered to go to class anymore.

It was odd that school was becoming a refuge for her. She hated it at first but now Matt was out of a job and so was her father, they were both home and busy, all the time. They were looking for things to do- Matt was trying to get back into college, despite already having a degree and her father was attempting to find an “ordinary” job. Her mother kept her position as a secretary and picked up more hours, often returning home late and well past the time that Katie went to bed. She didn’t hardly see anyone anymore. 

**Eight Years Earlier:**

It wasn’t until her junior year that she met Keith. Lance professed his deep, undying hatred for the boy, so Katie just kind of assumed he’d be the biggest asshole to walk the earth. Lance didn’t just hate people for no reason. Sure, he was a little flighty when it came to relationships, but this pervasive dislike wasn’t like him, not without justification. 

So she was irritated when she walked in late to her creative writing course and found that not only were Lance and Hunk not in the class with her (they’d been trying to organize schedules for the past three years, but some of the senior courses had been closed by the time she tried to register for them), but the only open seat was next to the very same Keith Kogane that Lance had been warning her about for the previous two years. 

She sat with a huff, refusing to look at him until she realized with a sense of horror that she’d forgotten something to write with. Her house had been a chaotic mix of her mother trying to make a grocery list, Matt scrambling for his suit for an interview and her father trying to get his latest invention together for a showing two hours away. She’d just grabbed her backpack and left, not bothering to check if she had everything she needed. 

Shit. She didn’t have the right textbook either. 

She leaned to the person on her right, “Do you have a pencil I could borrow?”

“Na, sorry, only got the one.”

The teacher was giving her that look, the one that said, “You’d better have a good reason for speaking out of turn”. She only had one more chance before she got into trouble. Keith very obviously had a pencil behind his ear, and one his hand that he was twirling like a miniature batton between his fingers, faster and faster until she whispered, “Hey-” and he jumped, the writing tool spiralling from his grip to smack him in the chin. 

He stared down at his pencil with a look of betrayal for so long Katie almost thought he’d forgotten about her, but then he said, “What.”

“I… do you have a pencil I could borrow?” 

He glanced up at the hesitation in her voice, his expression softening as he said, “Yeah. Not sure I can ever trust this one again anyway.” 

He’d just… made a joke? Sheesh, he wasn’t acting anything like the stuck up evil jerk that Lance always painted him to be. 

“Kogane,” the teacher said sharply, and Keith’s attention snapped to the front of the room even as he handed Katie his pencil, “What have I told you about talking in class?”

“Not to do it, sir,” Keith answered dutifully. 

“Good. Wouldn’t want to have to call Shirogane about your behavior again, would we?”

Keith bristled, the tension in his shoulders not reflected in his words as he said, “No, sir.”

The rest of the class snickered, most of them seniors that had regularly attended courses with Keith, at least she assumed. She’d never heard anyone call Mr. Iverson “sir” before, but she wondered if they had some kind of history. 

And Shirogane? She’d heard that name before, somewhere. She just couldn’t quite place it for some reason. 

Class finished without any further incidence. Lunch period was next, so the class packed as quickly as possible to get into the line first. Keith was second out of the room, his face dark as he slung his backpack over his shoulder and kept as far away from Iverson as possible.

She didn’t realize until he was out of sight that she still had his pencil. 

“Keith!” she yelled, racing down the hall, “Hey!”

She finally caught up with him, out of breath and dripping sweat just before the lunchroom. He was staring at her like she’d grown a third eye, but she pressed his pencil into his palm, gasping like a fish.

“Here.”

“It’s just a pencil, Katie,” he said, his eyebrows raised. 

“You-You know my name?”

“I- yeah,” Keith closed his fingers around the pencil, his gaze directed somewhere beyond her, “You’re Matt’s little sister.”

“You know my brother?”

“Well, kind of,” Keith finally looks at her, “My uh... older brother used to hang out with him. He talked about you a lot.”

_ Shirogane. Shirogane…  _

“You’re… Shiro’s little brother? I didn’t know he had any family here!” Katie exclaimed and Keith took a step back, like the volume of her voice was physically repellant for him. 

“I… We’re not biologically related. He’s helping me out, I guess, and we live together,” Keith slipped the pencil into his pocket and then scratched the back of his neck, “Uh. I gotta get to lunch.”

“Yeah, sure,” Katie said, watching him go. 

Hmm. Why in the world had Lance said Keith was so rude? She didn’t really see that at all. 

She didn’t see much of Keith for the rest of the year. He was in and out of class, sometimes present, sometimes not. According to Lance and Hunk that was pretty normal for him. He never asked for notes, but somehow, once when she saw a score he’d gotten, it was in the 90’s. Not as high as hers, of course, but still better than she would expect. 

She talked to him a few times, but it was nothing personal. She remembered him, a little, from times that Matt had talked about him, although those occurrences were pretty rare. Apparently Shiro had taken him in after an incident that landed him in a juvenile detention center, but that was all Katie really knew, other than that he was smarter than he seemed, he wasn’t actually all that rude and he had an aversion to cutting his hair. 

Her family lost their house that year, so it wasn’t exactly her first priority to figure out why Keith was so distant. She cried when she had to leave her home, the perfect setup she’d designed for her room, the unfaltering wifi. She had to sell a lot of her tech online to afford this new place, since her dad and Matt still weren’t able to find jobs. And, to make things worse, they had to buy a cheap router that no amount of work that her dad or brother did on it made a difference. 

The apartment was small and smelled of wet socks, but like her mom said, she should just be grateful she got her own bedroom. For a while it looked like she was going to have to room with Matt, but they’d gotten that little issue figured out. Not that she didn’t love her brother, but a girl’s gotta have her own space. 

 

**Six Years Earlier:**

She graduated. Then spent a year trying to get into colleges that would not accept her. Lance had had the same problem, the year prior, and she’d comforted, told him everything would be okay but deep deep down, she hadn’t been worried. Not really. She hadn’t actually thought that the same would happen to her. She was a star student, had a bright future ahead of her. She was going places. 

Until she wasn’t. 

She got stuck working as a menial tech assistant. Her boss knew about as much about computers a fucking mouse and somehow he was in charge of monitoring her work. Not that she didn’t think being a tech assistant was a good job, just that it wasn’t for her. Not at all. 

She rarely saw Hunk or Lance that year after highschool. They were already dealing with their own problems. She was in the process of moving apartments with her family for the third time that year and didn’t really mind that she didn’t have to put the effort into talking to them. 

(That was a lie. She minded very much.)

 

**Four Years Ago:**

She sat idly in the corner of the tech shop, making her small potted plant grow and wilt, bloom and die, cycling over and over while she waited for 5 pm to hit. For the first two years here, she’d tricked herself into thinking it was temporary, that she’d get into some college, that even the community colleges that had rejected her would take her in. 

She couldn’t pretend anymore. She was going to be here the rest of her life and probably die in this cubicle office. 

An alert pinged on her phone and she swiped it open without looking at it. Normally, she’d just delete the news updates she received everyday around noon, but this one caught her eye. 

“Mutants to be relocated.”

**Three Years Ago:**

She got used to living in the compound after a while. The wifi was good, the food better and she had a bigger space for herself. Her family even got a dog. She missed Lance and Hunk, wondered what had happened to the two of them, but honestly it was probably better that they didn’t get in contact. 

She turned 21 while in the compound. Matt took her out for drinks to celebrate, bought her a few too many shots and then carried her home. It was great spending time with him. She hadn’t seen enough of him or her father in recent months and when she tried to ask him about it after a healthy dose of liquid courage, he’d just deflected her questions and convinced her to take another drink. It was strange, because Matt never hid anything from her that she wanted to know. He never thought she was too little or too weak to handle the truth, but now he wasn’t giving it to her.

Things were okay, despite that, despite not seeing half of her family nearly as often as she probably should.  

Everything changed when the fire nation attacked. 

The fire nation being the G.A.L.R.A. in this scenario, of course.  

She was at work, that same stupid tech job that she never progressed in. At least she wasn’t demoted. 

When she tried to get back into the compound that night, they wouldn’t let her in. She couldn’t see around the huge gates, but there was a line of people being escorted out. One of them was her mother. 

She screamed some very unlady like cuss words at the guards, pulled her car around to park back by the supermarket that had recently been built outside the compound entrance, and then sprinted to her mother. 

As soon as Colleen saw Katie, she burst into tears. 

“Mom? Mom what’s wrong?” she asked, and the sobbing woman sank to her knees, her face in her hands. 

“They took them Katie. Dad and Matt. They took them, sweetheart.”

No explanation was needed on who “they” were.

“Why? Mom?”

“They said that they were part of a resistance group, that they were being arrested for treason.” Her mother’s face becomes intent, focused, “Katie, they were looking for you too. You have to run, you have to hide somewhere they can’t find you.” 

Her mother gently untangled Katie’s finger’s from her own, giving her a little shove toward her car. 

“Mom, no, come with me-”

“I can’t.” her mother whispered, gently lifting the hem of her jeans to show a shackle around her ankle, “Katie go, before they figure out who you are.”

“I showed my id at the gate and they didn’t take me there, mom this doesn’t make-”

“Not all G.A.L.R.A. are evil,” her mom said, which out of everything she had said so far, made the least sense, “Go. Now.”

Katie left. She drove all night and then slept on the side of the road and realized she had no food, no water, nothing to sustain her. She watched the news, saw that Lance was wanted for unlawful use of extra human abilities. She watched the destruction off her home and Lance’s subsequent outburst, his power so strong that she was amazed she’d never had any clue he was a mutant. She cried as she drove, huge gasping breaths that hurt her throat and her chest. She couldn’t see straight and by the time she got to the next big city, she’d numbed herself to everything but the road. 

She had enough money to stock up on some groceries. Gas station snacks weren’t going to do it for her forever. 

While she was in the store, an announcement came over the screens, lighting up what seemed like every available surface in this place. 

_ Henry Smith. Taken into custody for questioning. Possible co-conspirator with fugitive Lance McClain-Martinez.  _

Oh god. 

She sank to the floor in the middle of the grocery store. A little old lady with a walker kicked at her as she stormed past, but Katie didn’t care. Everyone she loved was in G.A.L.R.A. custody. 

She should have seen it coming. Hunk and Lance lived together, it was only natural that-

Her brain caught on the first part of that phrase for some reason. Hunk and Lance lived together. 

Lived. Past tense. They were both gone now. The apartment was empty, likely still had running water and a little bit of food, knowing Hunk. She could go there. 

She didn’t have her computers, any of her possessions actually, but she could find more. She would find more, because she had a lot of work to do if she was going to get Hunk and her family free. And of course, if she had time, throw the G.A.L.R.A. off Lance’s tail. 

The G.A.R.L.A. were going to rue the day they’d ever fucked with Pidge Gunderson’s family. 

 

**Two Years Ago:**

She and Rover were alone in Hunk’s apartment when the broadcast came on the television. Normally, they didn’t watch the G.A.L.R.A. news network, but when Hunk was over, he sometimes made them turn it on while he cooked. 

It was background noise at that point. She and Rover were too engrossed in their task to pay attention to it, at least until there was a pulse that went through the living room and straight into her skull. 

“Five together as one. Elements collide. The G.A.L.R.A. will be no more and each of you with wickedness in your hearts shall be vanquished.”

It was in her head, in her brain, speaking directly to  _ her  _ somehow. By the time she managed to look up at the screen through watering eyes, the woman was dead. The girl was the only one left alive, the rest of her family murdered in front of her on the stage. 

She disappeared and Rover was by her side, rubbing her back, asking if she needed some water. 

“I’m fine,” she croaked, but she wasn’t. Not really. Something was different, although she wasn’t quite sure what. 

When Hunk stopped by later that night, she asked if he’d heard anything around noon that day. He hadn’t, but he had felt the strange pulse. Which was odd, because Rover hadn’t even sensed that much. 

She didn’t understand. Pidge hated not understanding. 

 

**One and a Half Years Ago:**

After she lost Rover, she kind of… drifted, for a while. She knew she was in Arus, that she was supposed to be a part of this big thing, the Alliance, or whatever, but it was hard to become invested in something when everything she ultimately tried to do failed. She tried to keep her family together. She tried to fight back against the G.A.L.R.A. once already. Fighting back again?

But she did it, because Hunk wanted her too and Keith had always been nice to her and Shiro was a great guy. Allura was the same girl she’d seen on T.V. six months ago, something that both shocked and alarmed Pidge at first until she realized that it didn’t really matter much. Allura was a little strange, but that was to be expected considering her power, all that she’d been through, and how busy she was looking after her daughters. Or Shiro’s daughters. Their daughters? Whatever. 

Allura talked often about how much more powerful they would all be when they found their last member, that things would get better, that Voltron would make a difference, but there were no leads on who their water elemental could be. And despite Hunk’s optimistic estimates on their impact, Pidge just didn’t see it. Things weren’t any different. 

The only spot of happiness in all of this was that that her mother had been liberated. Pidge hadn’t even known it had happened, hadn’t had a hand in it at all. She’d just found her mom among a group of rebels on one of their missions and helped her get to a safe house. They communicated every once in a while, but after not talking for so long it was odd to get back into the habit. 

Eventually Shiro found her wandering the halls in the middle of the night and they talked. He seemed to think it was long overdue. He told her about the work he’d been doing with her father and brother before they were taken. He explained that he and Allura had been a part of the their resistance group and that Allura had a difficult time talking about it since her parents were killed. He told her… everything. Or well, most things. 

He, Allura and Matt had been close before her father and brother were taken. Coran, her father and Allura’s family were leading members in the resistance. But things broke down, somehow the G.A.L.R.A. found a list of people and they were all taken. Shiro was even captured at one point, but Keith,(and here Shiro laughed, for whatever reason), found a way to rescue him. 

“I’ve been looking after him since he was 13,” Shiro volunteered, and Pidge glanced at him in surprise. They don’t talk about their pasts much, and while the discussion of the resistance was necessary, this information wasn’t. It was freely given backstory and for some reason, she cherished it. 

“Really?” she smiled, and he shifted so that he was sitting cross legged, almost facing her. 

“Yeah. He was shorter than you until he turned sixteen,” Shiro grinned and Pidge snorted in disbelief. “No, really. He was still kind of short, even after that growth spurt, you probably remember since you had class with him, but then he turned twenty and it was like he had a second puberty. Shot up like another four inches or something. Took him forever to fill out.”

“He wasn’t that short!” Pidge protested and Shiro laughed again. 

“To him, he was,” Shiro shook his head, “He was shorter than that kid you guys used to be friends with, what was his name? Lance? It used to drive him nuts.”

Talk of Lance sent her spiraling back into that place of numbness, that place where she didn’t have to think about all those that are still missing in her life. Shiro seemed to sense it, gently patting her head as he stood up. 

“I just wanted you to know what they were doing,” he said, his dark eyes looking almost black in the absence of the usually too bright florescent light of Arus, “They were doing something important, something they believed in. That’s why they risked everything. If you don’t feel like this place is where you belong, where you can make a difference, then it doesn’t make sense for  _ you  _ to risk everything too.”

“Are you telling me to leave?” Pidge asked as he turned to exit. 

“No,” he said, without looking back at her, “I’m telling you that you have a choice.”

 

**One Year Ago:**

She made her choice. 

She stayed. She fought. She began to consider Shiro, Keith, Allura and Coran part of her family. Even Charlie and Eliza, although she wasn’t really one for befriending children. 

Things still went bad, just like she knew they would. 

 

**Six Months Ago:**

She spent most of her time in her room, scanning G.A.L.R.A. frequencies for any sign of her brother. Her mother checked on her often, as did Hunk. She got to know Shay, which was nice. The girl was friendly for a human and knew when not to bother Pidge. 

She looked for Shiro and Keith. She found just about as much on them as she had about her family. 

Which was essentially nothing. Not a thing. 

 

**Two Months Ago:**

Eventually, of course, they do get Keith back and it was… a lot better than she imagined it would be. Sure, he was broody and emo, but he always had been. The others seemed to walk on eggshells around him for whatever reason, but honestly she didn’t care enough to even try. 

“‘Sup My Chemical Romance,” she mumbled as she tripped into the kitchen at an ungodly ten in the morning, not surprised to find that Keith was half asleep at the kitchen table again. He seemed to have as much trouble finding his bed as she did most nights. 

“Gremlin,” he grunted, not bothering to raise his head. 

“Want coffee?”

He grunted again. 

Five minutes later she slid a steaming mug of the best instant coffee she’d been able to steal from the market place two blocks from here in front of Keith’s nose and still without lifting his head, a pale hand snaked out and snatched the cup. 

All she heard was slurping noises for a long minute while she enjoyed her own cup of joe and then finally, finally, Keith lifted his head, his dark hair in disarray under the hood he kept perpetually up. 

“There any more?” Keith grumbled as he stretched. She pointed to the grounds. 

“Don’t use any more of the electricity to warm the water,” she warned and Keith sighed. 

“Why.”

“We’re on rations with the generator right now til I can find the part I need to make it more efficient.”

She could feel him glaring at her, but she didn’t bother turning to look. 

“What am I supposed to do then?”

“Warm it up yourself fire boy.”

“Can’t.”

“Yes you can,” she sips her caffeine, wishing she had an espresso maker, “Make me one while you’re at it.”

“No.”

“Bitch.”

“Whore.”

“Cock sucker.”

“What I do in my free time,” Keith said, slamming a fresh mug of nearly boiling coffee in front of her, “Is none of your business.”

She turned, blinking rapidly. That might have been the longest phrase he’d spoken the entire time since he’d been back. He was staring straight ahead, not meeting her gaze, but… was that a smile? He was drinking from his mug but she thought she could still see it, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. 

Well damn. 

Yeah. It was pretty nice having Keith around again. 

 

**One Week Ago:**

When they’d left the safe haven her mother was hiding in nearly three months ago, Colleen had given Pidge a box of her things that she’d managed to rescue from the fire. She’d stashed all of the stuff she’d taken from the fire in an old factory a few blocks from the house, and when she’d returned to wait for Pidge, that was when the G.A.L.R.A had taken her. Pidge and Hunk went on a mission to retrieve the boxes a bit after Keith and Shiro… left, and surprisingly, everything had still been there. 

She hadn’t really done more than given it a cursory glance. She wasn’t sure if it was because it had the name ‘Katie’ written on the side of it, or because most of it seemed like it was probably junk. Either way, it took her nearly a year to finally work up the courage to look through it. 

Most of it was worthless. A few of her old sweaters, some jeans. A toothbrush and toiletries. But Matt’s old glasses were in here, probably by mistake, and she almost cried as she slipped them on. She didn’t need glasses, never had, but Matt’s were bifocals, for reading. She was surprised to find that wearing them didn’t really impact her vision all that much. 

There were a few of her old notebooks, a journal, stuff that at the time her mother probably thought she would miss if they burned up in a fire. Now they were just reminders of what she used to have.

At the bottom of the small box was another sweatshirt. She nearly

threw it into the discard pile when she realized that this wasn’t her jacket. It was Lance’s. 

She slipped it on. This time, tears fell, trickling down her

cheeks and onto the cracked cement below. 

 

**Two Days Ago:**

She figured it out before everyone else. 

Allura having visions of a water elemental, immediately after Pidge started wearing Lance’s jacket? Coincidence? 

Not a chance. 

She was on board with the whole, “don’t tell Keith” thing though. No matter how well she got along with the guy, she had to admit he had issues with strangers. Especially when those strangers weren’t exactly unfamiliar and were people he already had a basis to dislike. Lance could be a completely different person now, but Pidge couldn’t exactly see Keith as the type to just… let things go. 

Then again, she had underestimated him before. 

 

**One Day Ago:**

There was a loud whoosh as a fire ignited just outside the makeshift walls of her workstation. 

She hated being right. 


	8. Pidge: Can All These Emotions Just Stop. Please.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has been commenting and leaving Kudos! You guys make my day and I hope you enjoy the update!

**Now:**

She spends the night in the hospital next to Shiro’s bedside. 

She’s not alone there. Keith falls asleep sprawled out on one of the armchairs they dragged from Allura’s room. Coran sleeps on one of the hard medical tables that they keep in the corner, a pile of sheets as a pillow. She’s sure that can’t be comfortable, but he doesn’t even have the decency to look sore when he wakes up periodically to check Shiro's progress. 

She snoozes on one of the cots, her head resting on her fingers. Her laptop beeps quietly in front of her, monitoring Shiro’s vital signs. He’s fine. They think. His arm is gone, replaced by some kind of high tech prosthetic on which Pidge runs every diagnostic that she can think of. While the processes were complex, they weren’t beyond her understanding. Why the G.A.L.R.A. would go to such lengths to give one of their prisoners a prosthetic of this caliber, she doesn't know, but frankly, the entire thing is fascinating. Not that Keith appreciated her making such a comment out loud but hey, everyone's a critic. 

Lance and Hunk each slept in their rooms, while Allura slept with the girls. They were both so keyed up after dinner the night before (the awkward dinner that Keith never showed up for)that it had taken all of them to get the two to bed. Finally, Keith happened to stroll by at about ten pm, after Charlie had gotten up for the thirtieth time and Pidge was about to duct tape her to her bed. 

“Charlie,” he’d said. Pidge waited for the reprimand, the  yelling, the ‘get off Pidge or I swear to God I’ll beat your ass to next year’ something Pidge had already tried twice. (She’s not exactly the best with children, alright?)  

“But-” the little girl protested and Keith sighed. 

“Bed.”

“Fineeeeeeeee,” Charlie whined stomping her little feet the whole way to the bedroom, where she dramatically flopped face first onto her comforter. Eliza was half asleep, thank god, her little face peeking out from under the blanket. 

“Good night,” Keith said, in that same, tired tone of voice and Charlie piped up with, “Aren’t you going to tuck me in?”

“If you’re big enough to be up this late,” Keith turned off the light, “You’re big enough to tuck yourself in.”

“Love you, Uncle Keith,” Charlie said, her voice small, “Love you Aunt Pidge.”

“Love you too,” Keith and Pidge said in unison. Keith elbowed her in a way that could have been taken for accidental, but she knew was his teasing her.

And that was it. No yelling, no screaming, no Pidge ripping out chunks of her hair. 

“How the fuck did you do that?” Pidge frowned once they were out of hearing distance of the girl’s room. The curtains they used as walls throughout most of the facility were not great at keeping sound isolated. 

“Dunno,” Keith sighed, “You wore her out I guess. There leftovers from dinner?”

Her computer beeps loudly and she startles from her doze, scrambling to place what sensor has gone off. Keith shifts, his head snapping upright from where it had been craned over the back of the chair. He rubs at his neck as he turns to face her, his long hair sticking to his cheeks in a couple places. Coran is still unconscious, but Pidge knows the instant someone says his name he’ll be awake and as chipper as ever. 

“What’s wrong?” Keith squints in her direction, the bright light of the nine am sun clearly too much for him. 

Pidge frantically searches through the monitors, Shiro’s vitals, anything that could be wrong and… sees nothing. 

“I don’t know?” Pidge says, and then Shiro makes a soft noise of distress and they both turn to him. 

The furrows in Keith's brow deepen and he leans forward, wrapping his fingers in Shiro’s. It’s weird because it’s been at least a year since she’s seen Keith show affection like this to  _ anyone,  _ even Charlotte, “I think… I think he’s having a nightmare.”

“That makes sense with the readings I have,” Pidge peers at her computer screen, just as the curtain that blocks the entrance to their makeshift hospital is pulled aside by Lance. 

“Morning Pidge,” Lance says as he steps inside, holding back the fabric so that Hunk can follow him, “How’s Shiro?”

“He’s fine,” Keith grumbles and Lance glares at him as if just now noticing that he’s in the room too.

“Mullet,” Lance acknowledges him and Keith clenches his jaw. 

“Uh,” Hunk interjects, ever the peacemaker, “Lance had a question for you Pidge.”

“Shoot,” she says, without taking her eyes off the monitor.

“I’m going back home,” Lance leans against the cot, trying to see what she’s working on, “Just to check things out, let my girlfriend know where I am and everything. Do you want to come?”

“Why am I not surprised that you have a girlfriend even after all the shit you’ve been dealing with?” Pidge rolls her eyes, despite not actually knowing what Lance has gone through. She can imagine though. 

“Can’t help it,” Lance drawls, “The ladies love me.”

Keith snorts and Lance puffs up his chest like he’s planning to respond, but before he can speak Pidge says, “Sure. I’ve gotta get out of this room anyway.”

“Pidge-” Keith says as if to protest, but she cuts him off.

“You know Coran said Shiro won’t wake for a while. I’ll be back by one, he shouldn’t be up until dinner time anyway. You know how to monitor his vitals and if anything changes, Coran should be able to take care of it.”

Keith still doesn’t look convinced, even as she lays her precious laptop in his arms. 

“Everything’s going to be fine,” she reassures him, “We’ve gotten

him back, haven’t we? We’re not going to let him slip away again.” 

Keith’s eyes dart to the screen and back up to her face, “Okay.”

For someone who doesn’t know Keith like she does, that would seem like a simple agreement, a simple concession to let her do what she wants. But she knows him better, knows that when he says ‘okay’ like that, in this situation, he’s telling her that he trusts her. He trusts her judgement, he trusts her to be right, and considering how little Keith trusts these days, it warms her right to her fingertips, like she’s got a little bit of his fire ability in her veins. 

She smiles down at him and he smiles back. 

Thankfully, Lance has been quiet this entire time, staring at her and Keith. Hunk just rocks back and forth on his toes, waiting for her to finish up her conversation. 

“I need to grab my pack from my room, but then we can head out,” Pidge explains, and leaves Shiro in the more than capable hands of Coran and Keith. 

Twenty minutes later,  they’re wandering through the rubble. She and Hunk have on small packs with snacks and emergency supplies so that if for some reason, they’re pinned down and unable to return to Arus, they can survive out here for a few days. Lance doesn’t have anything, but he assures them that he’s got supplies back at his home. 

He keeps referring to this place as “home” and it throws Pidge off. She doesn’t even think of Arus as home and she’s been living there for… well, she’s not really sure how long she’s been living there. A year? Year and a half? She lost track of time. 

How Lance knows where he’s going, she’s uncertain, but he leads them through bombed-out streets and debris fields like he’s familiar with the entire area. He climbs over a massive pile of concrete, standing at the top with a fond little grin on his face as he waits for both she and Hunk to huff and puff their way next to him. 

“Welcome to the Hotel,” he says, like he’s proud of the shell of a skyscraper that looms behind him. There are letters missing from the name and an entire wall at the back of the building is gone, but it’s the most intact piece of property she’s seen for the last twenty minutes of the hour it took to hike out here. 

“You live here?” Hunk asks, tilting his head as he examines the crumbling facade and lack of a front door. 

“Yep,” Lance steps off the piece of concrete his worn and ratty sneakers were perched on. His hands are in the pockets of his jeans as he slowly slides down the steep slope like he’s done this a million times. 

He probably has, honestly. 

Pidge, who is much more cautious than the new Lance, wraps her arm around Hunk’s elbow and holds on for dear life while they make the trek through the loose gravel. She sees bits of people’s lives, the ones who lived in this building maybe, as they pick their way past them -crushed plates, a stuffed bear, empty tea bottles, a tape dispenser. 

They make it to the front door. The puddles of murky water in the street are shivering and it takes her a minute to realize that it’s Lance making them do that. He’s rubbing his hands together and looks pleased with himself, excited almost, like a kid with a new puppy. He looks so much like the old Lance, the one she knew from high school, that she realizes she’s been going about this all wrong. Maybe it’s not Lance who’s changed, but her. 

They go up a set of dirty and broken stairs. It should be a dark, enclosed staircase, but there are holes in the walls, leading to rooms in various stages of lighting. She can see people in some of them, empty beds in others. Some have makeshift curtains placed over them or bits of sheet metal. 

They get to a higher floor. Pidge loses count of exactly where they are, but she trusts Lance to get them back out again. Hunk is looking anxious, like he always is when they leave the protection of Arus, but he’s holding together nicely. He's come a long way since they started fighting back against the G. A. L. R. A. and she has a sudden surge of pride for him. 

They walk down the hallway and Lance starts chattering nervously, like he always used to do before he asked a girl out or they walked into a big exam. He’s gesturing wildly with his hands, craning his head back to see the two of them as they walk. 

“Nyma’s the sweetest, really, you’ll see. She’s a little rough at first until you get to know her, but she’ll like you two, I think. And Rolo, her older brother, he’s a little protective and I’m not sure how much he actually likes me after all this time, but he’s great too-”

“I’m sure they’re good people,” Hunk says, nodding, slipping back into his role of encouraging Lance not to fall into insecurity like it’s his second skin. Which for Hunk, it probably is, to be honest. 

“Yeah, yeah they are. Nyma’s the one who found me, took me in and taught me how to take care of myself-” they’re at the door now and Lance pauses, knocking on it in an odd pattern before letting himself in. He braces himself as if waiting to be hit by someone, but no one’s there. 

“She must be out,” Lance says slowly but then he takes a good look around the room and his face falls. 

The room’s empty. 

“You live here?” Hunk’s brow furrows. 

“I-” Lance takes a step forward, then sinks to his knees in the middle of the empty floor, “Not when it was like this, no.”

He plops down on his ass, puts his head in his hands and sighs deeply. 

Pidge shoves Hunk inside the room and shuts the door behind them to give them some privacy. It’s sad when your life is so bad that your girlfriend taking all your stuff and leaving you is something you just sigh over, because she’s pretty sure that’s what happened here. 

“Lance?” Pidge asks and Lance shakes his head. 

They give him another moment and then Lance says, “Nyma-”

His voice cracks and he clears his throat, raising a blank gaze

to look at them both. She feels Hunk flinch next to her, and she knows it’s because Lance has that same blank look on his face that Keith sometimes does when he’s talking about something he doesn’t want to be. She wonders, for the millionth time, why the two of them aren’t friends. Then she remembers the fact that Keith almost barbequed Lance yesterday and forces herself to stop asking herself stupid questions. 

“I gave Nyma some of the money that Coran paid me for doing this last job,” Lance sounds empty, hollowed out, “I told her that if I didn’t come home, she was to take it and move somewhere the G.A.L.R.A. couldn’t get her, but I didn’t think…”

He trails off, and she can finish that sentence for him.  _ I didn’t think she’d leave so quickly. So easily.  _

“There used to be a bed here,” Lance gestures to the corner, then over by the bathrooms, “We used the counter space in there as our kitchen. We had a mini fridge and a T.V. and-”

Lance’s voice becomes tight and finally, he cuts himself off. There’s not a trace that any of that stuff had ever been here. No scuff marks in the floor, not even a speck of dust. If Nyma had ever existed, she’d cleaned this room of ever reminder that either of the two of them had ever lived together. 

“Come on,” Hunk says softly, crouching next to his friend, “Let’s head back to Arus. I’ll make you some waffles.”

“You’d do that?” Lance’s gaze jerks upward, in Hunk’s direction, and he looks surprised, “I heard Allura saying you had limited rations last night and-”

“Of course I’d do that,” Hunk looks frustrated, tired, “Lance, I’ve missed you every day that you’ve been gone. I’ve been looking forward to finding you again for years. I’d do more than make you waffles, dude, but our options are kind of limited. So let’s forget about this stupid Nyma chick, who clearly doesn’t know what she’s got when it’s right in front of her, and Pidge and I can catch you up on the little rogue missions we did before we found the Voltron Coalition.”

“You two were doing solo jobs?” Lance asks, incredulous and Hunk nods with a bit of humor in his lips that Pidge doesn’t feel. That’s a time when Rover was still alive and with her and even after so long the hurt hasn’t faded. Just like the hurt of missing her father and her brother. 

Although, having Lance back? It helps just a little. 

They finally get Lance off the floor and back outside. People stare at them as they pass the peepholes, and when one of them asks where Nyma hurried off too with all of her things two days ago Pidge begins to hear the smattering of rain on the roof that has her rushing Lance back to the first floor. 

“Is that you?” she asks once they make it to the gap in the front wall where a revolving door should have been. She points to the rain as if her question isn’t clear enough. 

“I don’t know,” Lance frowns, “I don’t… have that great of control over my abilities anymore.”

“God you sound just like Keith,” Pidge moans and Hunk chuckles behind her, “I don’t care how much control you think you have. If it’s you, just make it stop.”

“I don’t know how,” Lance sounds bewildered, confused, “I knew I could make rain but-”

“So it is you!”

“I guess?”

“Then stop!”

“I can’t!” Lance seethes, “Listen, I just learned that not only did my girlfriend break up with me, but she took all of our stuff when she did it. I’m not really in the mood to-”

The rain outside begins to lessen and then petter out, coming to a full stop when Pidge interrupts Lance’s little rant, “Thanks! I knew you could do it.”

She steps through the empty entryway, glancing both ways to check for G.A.L.R.A. soldiers. She sees none, so she gestures for the boys to follow her, keeping a close eye out for any patrols in the area. 

“How did she do that?” Lance whispers to Hunk and Pidge can’t help her grin. 

“She has this way of annoying people into doing what she wants them to,” Hunk mutters back, “It’s a skill I’ve never seen anyone master quite like she has.”

 

**Now:**

When they make it back to Arus, things haven’t much changed. Keith’s in the training room after Coran kicked him out of the med bay. Coran’s still with Shiro, who hasn't stirred, and Allura’s on a walk with the girls, so that leaves Pidge and Hunk to give Lance the tour, make him waffles and then watch some bad chick flicks on the sheet that they use as a T.V. screen. Pidge rigged up a projector and a laptop to make a mini movie theater with three ratty couches and two chairs that fit all seven of them- nine now- when they decide to actually be social. 

They’re just finishing up the first movie when Allura hurries past them, gently ushering Eliza and Charlotte in Hunk’s general direction, “Hunk, Pidge, do you mind watching the girls for just a few minutes?”

“What’s going on?” Lance asks and Allura’s eyes brim with unshed tears. 

“Shiro’s awake, and Coran requested that he be slowly reintroduced to everyone-”

“Shiro’s awake?”

“No way!”

“When can we see him?”

Allura laughs, and Pidge thinks that it might be the first time she’s heard that since Shiro went missing, “In a few minutes, I think. I’ll have Coran come out and get you.”

“Thanks, Princess,” Pidge snags the girl’s small hands as Allura practically runs toward the med bay, her flowing pink top rippling behind her. 

“Princess?” Lance asks, his lap suddenly full of Charlie, who decided he was the most interesting person in the room. 

“Yeah.” Hunk smiles when Charlie settles in for the long run, getting comfortable, “Her parents were the heirs to some estate in England when she moved here. Shiro used to jokingly call her that and I guess the rest of us just kind of picked it up.”

“Cool,” Lance grunts, his attention taken when Charlie takes the momentary lull in the conversation to introduce herself. 

“Hi, I’m Charlotte, but you can call me Charlie. This is my Uncle Hunk and my Pidge, I mean, Aunt Pidge but I don’t think she’d like it if you call her that. Who’re you again?”

“I’m Lance,” Lance says raising his eyebrows at Pidge. 

She shrugs. Eliza sighs and climbs up onto the couch next to Hunk, shaking her head as if too used to her younger sister’s antics by now. 

“You made my Uncle Keith mad yesterday,” Charlie says conversationally, poking Lance in the chest lightly, “That’s not very nice. Are you nice?”

“I think so,” Lance, normally so eloquent around others, seems to be at a loss for words.

“I’m not so sure,” Charlie drawls, sounding suspiciously like Allura when she’s reprimanding Charlie for lying about something, “If you were nice, Uncle Keith would like you and he only goes all fire for people he doesn’t like very much.”

“Well, I’ll try to get on his good side, hmm?” Lance is shooting barely concealed looks of panic in Hunk’s general direction. 

“I think you should try to get on my good side,” Charlie states like the slightly terrifying six year old she is. 

“And why is that?” Pidge asks, trying not to laugh. 

“Because Uncle Keith loves me, and if I like Mr. Lance, then he’ll have to like Mr. Lance too.”

“Is that how that works?” Hunk questions. Eliza shakes her head ‘no’ in that sagely way she has.

“Yes,” Charlie contradicts, and Lance is saved from having to

answer by Coran’s entrance.  

“If there’s anyone who wants to see Shiro, they can come in now,” Coran informs them, but he pauses the mass exodus, “As long as their quiet, okay girls?”

“Yes Uncle Coran,” they say in unison and then everyone troops down to the med bay in almost a single file line, anxiety bleeding from every single one of them. 

When they enter into the med bay, Shiro’s sitting up, his eyes clear. He’s clearly used to the metal arm, considering he’s using it to pat Keith on the shoulder. The strands of white in his hair fall into his eyes a little as he turns to face the group of people entering the room and his entire face lights up. 

“Girls?” he says, hesitantly, like he’s afraid they’ll have forgotten about him, like they might not want him anymore but then both Charlie and Eliza are crying and yelling “Daddy!” as they clamber up onto the bed with him, hugging every inch of his torso that they can. Keith leans away from the display, a small smile on his face until he glances up and sees everyone in the doorway and his typical guarded expression returns. 

“I missed you all so much,” Shiro says, and then, get this,  _ bursts into tears.  _

He’s hugging the girls against his chest and then Allura is crying as she gently rubs the sobbing Eliza’s back and then Hunk joins in, saltwater cascading down his cheeks as he joins the group hug. Coran sniffs loudly and moves to Shiro’s other side and Pidge, who prides herself on being stoic, makes a small choked sound and throws herself on top of the pile, trying to ignore the wetness of her cheeks. 

Only Keith and Lance stand outside of the group hug. Everyone is a blubbering disaster at this point, laughing and crying. Keith’s standing now, watching them all with dark eyes as he says, “We missed you too, Shiro.”

His voice cracks and Pidge takes a breather from the tangle of disasters that she can proudly call her family to glance back at him. He’s biting his lip and his hands are crossed tightly over his chest and then Pidge yanks him into the mess, wrapping her arm around his shoulders and Allura puts one around his waist. He’s smiling, really smiling, and although he tries to duck his head so that no one can see his face, Pidge sees the tear that drips from his chin and splashes against the back of Coran’s hand. 

That just leaves Lance, standing outside the group, looking uncertain. He’s got this look of longing, this broken, hopeless look and then, somehow more surprising than Shiro crying, is the fact that Keith, resident asshole, reaches blindly behind him, snagging Lance’s wrist and forcefully dragging him into the hug. 

Lance looks surprised, shocked, and then Keith says something to him and Lance’s expression melts and there are tears in his eyes too, and Pidge feels like her heart is so full it might actually burst. 


	9. Lance: Bittersweet Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I am so sorry guys! This is super late, but classes started up again two weeks ago and I was not prepared. I'll attempt to be more regular with posting once again, but dissertations are a bitch, my dudes. Alright, hope you enjoy!

**Now:**

_You’re not as alone as you feel._

It’s not the words that strike a cord. They’re important, but it’s not the first thing that Lance’s tired and grief-stricken brain processes. Keith’s face is.

There are tears in his eyes, actual real, tears. This is someone who for the entirety of the time that Lance has known him, has refused to appear vulnerable in front of anyone. He’s hiding his face from everyone else, even, but he’s looking at _Lance,_ for some reason that Lance himself can’t fathom.

Worst of all, Lance sees that Keith knows. He’s been alone too, at some point in his life, Lance isn’t sure when, and he knows how Lance is feeling. Knows that emptiness gnawing at his ribcage, the tightness in his throat. The constant burn behind his eyes, the ache in his neck, his shoulders. The pressure to be okay so that he doesn’t push away the only people he has left.

He knows. He didn’t tell Lance not to feel that way, didn’t tell him it wasn’t okay or that he should be grateful for what he does have.

He just… reminded Lance of what was right in front of him, accepted him, despite all the stupid things they’d done and said to each other over the years.

 _Fuck Keith,_ Lance thinks, as he lays staring at his ceiling, _He doesn’t know what I’ve been through._

Which is true. But he also hadn’t pretended to know.

 _He’s a piece of shit!_ Part of his brain screams.

 _He gets along great with Pidge,_ The other half protests, _And his niece. She likes him a lot, and if he was such an asshole, wouldn’t the kids stay away from him?_

 _He tried to kill you!_ The first part retaliated. Lance found himself nodding along in agreement.

_True. That’s… very true._

_And now he’s gone and made things awkward. How are you supposed to act around him now?_ The first part of his brain sounds oddly smug now, considering that it’s still one half of a whole.

_Just… act natural?_

Lance snorts and rolls over onto his side with a huff, clutching his blanket tightly against his cheek. He can only see out of one eye, the majority of his curtain defined room shrouded in the inky blackness that overtakes the facility after Allura shuts off the massive fluorescent lights that hang from the ceiling.

He groans. Not too loudly of course, because he’d figured out sound travels in this place last night when Hunk had been snoring and one of the little girls got up in the middle of the night for a glass of water.

He’s been up for hours. Mostly because he can’t stop thinking about Nyma, and their life and all the ways that things could have been different, but sometimes Keith and their group hug slip in their too. It’s a whole god damn medley of fucked up in his brain tonight and his consciousness can’t handle it.

He just wants to sleep. Sleep and forget. Pretend when he wakes up that nothing ever happened.

After their little reunion, Shiro had fallen back asleep pretty quickly. He’d welcomed Lance to the group, although he’d already had some idea of who he was, based on “only good things.” Shiro swiftly assured him of this, but if Keith was actually his little brother, then Lance was positive that that couldn’t have been the case.

Whatever, it didn’t matter. Shiro had fallen asleep, they’d gone back and finished their movie, and then everyone else had retired as well. It was relatively early, but no one wanted to have dinner after all the snacks they’d eating while staring at the television screen. None of them seemed real keen on socializing either, not when they were now so acutely aware of Shiro’s absence, so they’d all faked tiredness and tottered off to their rooms for private time.

Keith hadn’t spoken to Lance again, not since he said… those words. It was like he had a moment of kindness, a single second of camaraderie and then bam, he was back to the same old Keith.

… Or maybe he was just as drained as the rest of them? Lance can’t figure it out for the life of him.

 _Fuck Keith,_ He thinks again.

Then, _I really, really need sleep._

He wonders if Coran has a way to do that, to help people fall asleep. Probably. If he uses someone’s stamina to heal their wounds, he could probably take someone’s stamina just for the hell of it and direct it to some other purpose. Maybe he could heal Lance’s broken heart with the added bonus of a good night's rest.

Lance snorts again and shifts, rubbing his eyes so aggressively that he sees stars for several seconds. When he can’t take it anymore, he gets up and loosens the screw on the pipe of the showerhead in the corner of his room. He knows fresh water is a precious commodity, but now that he’s here, he can help with that. So wasting a little bit of it shouldn’t be too big of an issue, right?

The sound of the water dripping onto the concrete finally lulls him under an indeterminate amount of time later.

He wakes to the sound of the lights being turned on one by one. It’s not a subtle sound. It’s a loud clunk and the whirring of the generator and to make things worse, it echoes throughout the entire warehouse space. So Lance is essentially given no choice in the matter- he’s awake.

He meanders his way to the kitchen and is not surprised to find that the others are up as well. No one could sleep through that. What is surprising is that Shiro’s up and around, carrying Charlotte on his hip. Allura is laughing at something he says, pouring Eliza a bowl of cereal before she sticks the milk back in their industrial size fridge. Pidge slips around elbows and ducks under raised arms as she passes out cups of coffee, one of which Keith steals with a self-satisfied smile, despite Pidge’s squawk of protest.

“That was for Lance!”

“Sorry Lance,” Keith says, taking a long drink from the cup as he passes by the entrance where Lance is standing, not looking sorry at all.

Hunk is holding court over at the massive range stove, scooping out eggs for people. Coran snatches them almost as soon as they hit the counter, passing them out with cool efficiency. He points at Lance and then one of the seats, setting a fork down with enough emphasis to let Lance know that this is his spot.

“Does anyone need help?” he asks, because he feels useless. He doesn’t want to sit and eat while everyone else is working.

“We have breakfast down to an art,” Allura assures him, “Eat. Don’t worry Keith isn’t much help in the morning either.”

She winks and Keith chokes on a forkful of eggs, “I started the stove!”

“Only cause you were the first one up,” Pidge hands Lance a fresh cup of coffee, “And the ignitor is broken.”

Keith opens his mouth, no doubt to make a snappy sarcastic response back, but Shiro interrupts, “I was thinking Allura, that if it’s alright with you, we should try to make the connection today.”

He says it so nonchalantly that Lance doesn’t pick up on the fact that this is apparently a big deal until everyone in the room falls quiet. Even Eliza drops her spoon into her bowl as she stares at her father in shock.

Keith shifts on his chair. Everyone’s subtly shooting glances over at the fire elemental and finally, he raises his head from where he’d been staring at the surface of his coffee like it held the answers to life’s most elusive questions.

“Uh, Shiro?” he says and his older brother turns from where he’d been putting jam on toast for everyone. Charlotte has her head resting on Shiro’s shoulder and it’s so fucking _cute_ and domestic that it makes Lance’s heart hurt.

“Yeah?” Shiro asks, his free hand on his hip, and now Lance can see what everyone’s worried about. He may have spoken casually, but there’s hard determination on his face and Keith visibly swallows.

“While you know I would normally agree with whatever you decided to do,” Keith hesitates, “This isn’t a good idea. We rescued you two days ago, you were only cleared by Coran an hour ago. You’re not ready.”

Everyone exhales in relief. Obviously, Keith’s said what they were all thinking, albeit a bit bluntly.

“Keith,” Shiro turns back to the toast and it’s like that single word sends everyone back to where they started. Something about the way he says it makes the black haired man next to Lance close his eyes in defeat as his head hangs, “I’ve been gone for a year. You guys have done your best to keep him at bay, I’m sure, but now we can make an even bigger impact. We need to get started as soon as possible. I’m not going to break.”

Keith mumbles something into his coffee and then stabs at his plate when Coran sets eggs in front of him. There’s no further argument. Lance isn’t sure why that is, but he rolls with it, uncertain as to where the boundaries are. He was accepted into their group, knows most of them pretty well, but Keith, Shiro, and Allura seem to form this odd sort of family unit that Lance doesn’t yet have the intel to navigate.

They all finish eating. Eventually, the chatter starts up again, but Lance still doesn't dare ask what this ‘connection’ is. It’s not til the plates are being placed into the sink and Coran promises that he’ll wash them while they’re busy that Allura begins to explain.

“The connection that Shiro mentions is the one that allows the six of us to become Paladins of Voltron,” Allura seems reluctant to share this information, glancing back at Shiro like she’s upset he’s making her do this, “I have a strong tie to the astral plane. It’s a dimension where power moves different, and through me, I can connect the five of you. This will allow you all to pull on the power of others, blend your powers together and perform feats with your abilities that are greater than each of you alone could accomplish. You will each receive a guide, which is essentially a physical representation of my power, helping you to maintain this connection and find each other.”

She spins to face them, the flowing white sundress she wears unfurling with a snap, “Do not think this is some sort of magic fun and games. The astral plane is dangerous. Your guide will protect you while you’re there, so you must form a strong bond with them. In order to do that, you all have to learn to work together.”

For some reason as she says that, she glares in the general direction of both Keith and Lance, which is just presumptuous in Lance’s opinion. He gets along just _fine_ with Keith.

They all troop into the living room. Charlotte follows them and Shiro has to bring her back to Coran, his face aging what seems like a year in front of Lance’s eyes as she begins to cry as soon as they are separated. Coran manages to find something to occupy the two girls by the time they’re sitting in a circle facing one another, legs crossed and arms resting on their knees.

“Alright. This process is not pleasant,” Allura informs them, tying her long white hair away from her face, “You’ll all have to connect to me one at a time. My father told me that with the old group that tried this, they saw each other’s memories, emotions, thoughts. It’s difficult to shield your companions from things you might not want them to see. But it’s necessary in order to form the connection, to find a guide that fits your personalities the best. Is everyone ready?”

They all nod and Allura takes a deep breath, “Close your eyes. Feel your element. Listen to the sounds around you. The oxygen coming into your lungs.”

Lance relaxes the muscles in his neck, his shoulders, his back. He tries to sense his element, but as usual, when he reaches for his power, it’s like touching a live wire. It’s jagged and almost too much and he just wants to let it go but then he feels Allura pull him in and things quiet. He can identify every pipe in the building, feels the moisture in the clouds above them, the water rushing through the sewers beneath them, but it’s soothing, like it used to be, instead of overwhelming.

“Hunk, I want you to go first,” Allura says quietly, and then behind Lance’s closed eyes, he begins to see flashes of light and sound and color that blend together to form images and scenes, like little movie clips in the darkness created by his own body.

_A flash of sensation. Yellow sunlight through tree leaves. A small boy lifting a rock with nothing but his mind, school children yelling and screaming and throwing bits of trash his way. A warm hand on his head, a quiet caress, dust particles in the air that dance and sway to the classical music his mother loves so much. Folding clothes to put it in a suitcase, staring at the stairs to an unfamiliar building. There are tears on his face as he looks in the mirror but then he meets a tall gangly boy at school who has braces and a cool olive colored jacket. They’re driving to the beach and Bon Iver plays through the speakers with the windows rolled down. There’s a girl in a green sweater and she adjusts her glasses as she laughs and glances as him in the rearview mirror. Filling a locker with shaving cream and running as a dark-haired boy finds his books ruined. Sitting in the soccer field, blinking in the bright daylight as they stare up at the sky trying to imagine what the clouds might look like while they ignore the problems in the world and their lives for a bit. The flicker of yellow flames as he pours a bit of oil into the pan, as he lights the candle in the middle of the dinner table. Sitting in row after row of desks in a college classroom, staying up too late playing video games with the same brunette boy who isn’t so gangly anymore. Waiting for the boy to come back. The endless darkness of the cell, of waiting to see if he’ll survive. T.V. blaring for background noise, gentle arguments about the best way to program the device, the same girl as before but she’s not laughing now and there are stress lines around her eyes. A different boy, this one small and mousy and a sickening guilt that comes with his fall. He’s on the street, fighting next to a woman with white hair who slams her fist into the face of a G.A.L.R.A. soldier with a satisfied smile. Letting a little girl with black hair lick the spoon as he helps her put the brownies in the oven, her younger sister bouncing on the counter excitedly. Blinking at the ceiling on a lazy Sunday morning, winding his fingers in the cinnamon curls of a girl who turns and smiles softly at him, her expression fond. Stumbling through the darkness of a G.A.L.R.A. facility, the roar of fire behind him as he tries to escape. Looking for someone, searching, desperation, and then finally, finally, success._

There’s more, so much more, but Lance can only process so much. His brain feels like it’s melting a little, but now Hunk is there, a presence in the back of his mind. It’s not as if he’s gathering thoughts or even feelings from his friend, at least not at this point in time, but there’s a definite strength, something that just screams _Hunk._

“Lance,” Allura says softly, and Lance isn’t really sure what she wants from him, but then he feels her reaching out to his mind, his soul, if those really exist. He lets her.

_A small smile from his father, toes submerged in the pool-_

_I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't-_ but then he feels the strength of Hunk calmly envelope him, filling him with the scent of bread and the one type of fish that he always used to make and it should be a bad combination but it's not, somehow.

_Toes submerged in the pool, a word of praise. The beach, wind in his hair, the smell of the ocean in his lungs, salt on his lips. Feeling alive as he races past his brother on a surfboard. Playing pranks on his brothers, heating the water in the sink for his mother. Her cool touch on his forehead when he’s sick with a fever. Watching the television with his entire family, the glow of the screen flickering over their faces as everyone cheers when the wind elemental is once again victorious. Standing terrified outside of the school and then a tawny-haired girl who only cries a little when she crashes through the construction cones on her scooter. Cookies and recipe cards spread out across a table, a tall boy in an apron pointing out what needed to be changed if he wanted to make his grandma’s recipe just right for his sister’s birthday. A black haired boy who sits next to him in lab and seems nice until he’s standing in front of him with a cold look to match his cold words. Holding his niece for the first time, tears on his cheeks, collecting in his shirt collar. Lying awake, staring at the glowing stars on his ceiling as the boy from before snores in the room across the hall. Heat on his face, blisters on his hands, fire, fire, fire, fire and then something broken, something like a shard of ice inside him. The warmth of skin against skin as he slides his hands up the girl’s back that eases the tightness in his chest just enough to be able to breathe. Crouching in a dusty air vent, voices, whispers, pictures, blood, sliding his knife along the edge of an old man’s cheek. The darkness of a cell, stunning brightness, the echo of his breath in a room that shouldn’t be empty._

There’s a pause. Someone sucks in a sharp breath, someone that sounds suspiciously like Keith, and then Allura whispers, “Pidge.”

The images are tentative, reluctant, at first, but slowly pick up speed until Lance forgets all about the fact that his entire soul has been bared to this group of six.

_Hair ruffled, the glint of glasses. A room of computers, a single dying potted plant. Her mother with a stack of papers in front of her at the kitchen table, history and language and economics. Hair clips and writing in binary code with her mom’s lipstick on a napkin. The grass under her toes as she races a tall blonde boy that looks just like her to the tree and back. Licking the frosting off birthday cakes, running her fingers along the bark of the trees, feeling lost, disconnected in the sea of a concrete ocean. Dreading school, the terror of standing outside that brick building until she sees a tall boy with a yellow headband in chemistry and things brighten. Pushing a different boy, lankier and almost as tall as the first in a shopping cart down the parking ramp by the school, laughing so hard she can’t breathe when the wheel catches on a rock and he tumbles from the protective metal cage. Trapped by a small cubicle, seeing the same people in a blur. Coming home to find there’s people missing, there’s life missing, there’s emptiness where her family used to be. Finding a new family in the apartment with the same tall boy who still wears the yellow headband, not a replacement but an additional layer. Horror, desperate loneliness, the kind of sadness that colors everything blue when that family too is lost. Wandering through the shell of streets, lifting rubble with vines, the strength of the ground beneath her feet. A man flying to the tops of the roofs to check for survivors. Searches that last long into the night, staring blankly at the softly pulsing computer screen as the progress bar creeps toward one hundred percent. Fear, deep and all-encompassing, that she’ll never find any of them again, that none of her families will ever be complete. Then elation as she stares at the man with just a hint of gray hair at the front of his head, and the lily on the table next to him bursts into life._

God, he’d had no idea that Pidge lost her family too. He wants to reach over and show her his support, show her that he’s sorry he’s been such an ass to everyone since he got here, but she’s in the back of his mind too, with Hunk and he can tell that she knows. And she forgives him, despite the fact that she doesn’t seem to think there’s anything to forgive.

The connection is getting stronger now, with three of them tied to Allura.

“Keith,” Allura croaks.

There’s nothing for a long moment. Everyone breathes in and out, the slow release of meditation that Lance normally would have been making fun of but seems strangely right in this situation.

“Keith,” Shiro says, this time less of an indication that it’s his turn, and more of a coaxing statement, a reassurance.

The images begin to flood in as slowly as Pidge’s had, but they don’t speed up. They’re halting and choppy and blurry, the first few so chaotic and overwhelming that Lance has no idea what they are supposed to be about. Then they solidify and become coherent.

_Dry, hot desert sun, cracked earth beneath his bare feet. Sitting on the front of a hoverbike, warmth from his father’s arms holding him in place as they zoom through the canyon. Pause. A black and purple room, straps around his wrists a needle in his arm, this is good for you, this will make everything all better- Pause. The gravestone is rough-hewn rock and not like the pretty marble statues surrounding it, but he doesn’t care. Pause. The hot wind on his face like the breath of a volcano, hair rippling back away from his vision as someone screams behind him. Pause. Heat, fire, bursting through his lungs, his head and he can’t think, he can’t see- pause. A black haired man standing over him, holding a hand out for him to take. Pause. The same black haired man with his arm around another. The two lean in to kiss, and there’s a quiet happiness in this moment, pretend disgust and pats on the head. Pause. Alone at school, can’t talk to anyone, can’t be around them, they’ll get hurt they’ll- Pause. Heat, fire, scorching through him, stabbing into his flesh, his muscles, his brain, and the black-haired man leans over him with a look of concern. Pause. The new baby is crying again and he hears someone shuffling down the hallway to look after her and he thinks that maybe parenthood is what hell looks like. Pause. The black-haired man is gone, always gone nowadays but there’s a strong sense of apathy about this fact as the woman next to him gently tugs his shirt over his head. Pause. Holding a small dark-haired child, panic building, a bubble in his chest, he doesn’t know what to do- Pause. Navigating the dark, bursting into a room where they have a man strapped to a table and it’s purple and black and it hurts to be back here- Pause. Everyone is dying and things are falling apart-Pause. He’s trying to be there, this time the dark-haired man lets him join in, says he’s old enough, says it’s okay for him to fight back, finally, finally finally finally- Pause. His lung fill with smoke and he wonders, as he hears the people around him screaming, if he’s going to die by his own mutation. Pause. He came back because he couldn’t leave them. He knows what it feels like to be left, knows what it means when a parent deserts you and he can’t do it to them, can’t do it to either of them, he has to come back-Pause. He found him, he found him, he found him, he found him-_

The images cut off abruptly. Keith’s memories are nothing like the others. They’re broken and jagged and a jumble of thoughts and feelings that are nearly impossible to make heads or tails of but Keith’s there, in the back of his mind now, a faint pulsing energy.

There’s silence for a moment, like everyone is trying to process, to recover from the onslaught of color and sound that had been Keith’s life. Lance feels almost more confused now about the man sitting across from him, but he tries to hide the sentiment from the link that’s being forged between them all.

“Shiro,” Allura sighs and instantly Lance is overcome. Shiro’s memories are a lot like Keith’s, with pieces that are obviously missing, edited out, except they’re not as choppy and haphazardly done. There’s an elegance to it, a purposeful omission of sensitive information that doesn’t feel malicious but rather… protective.

 _Parents holding his hand as they walk down a cobblestone street, a large umbrella shielding him from the sky. A breezy grin from a small boy that sits next to him in class. Excelling in school, proud parents, feeling elated, free, excited. Spending time at the boy’s house, falling from a tree and breaking his arm, rope swing over the lake. Controlling the winds behind their kite as they run through the park. Training at the academy, leaving his friends behind, you have potential Takashi, you just have to live up to it. Making new friends, first girlfriend, kissing under the bleachers and wondering if that was really all there was to it. First boyfriend and this, this is what it means to be in love, he finally understands. Graveyard at night time, putting lilies on the smaller headstone because that always was mother’s favorite flower. Training with the top hero of the time, the youngest hero of our age, doing what he feels is right despite being told that he’s wrong. A small black haired boy thrown out of the car by the police officer, offering a hand to help him up, knowing without a doubt that this kid is important somehow, that he’s supposed to help him.  Meeting up with the same boy from school except he’s older now, a man and realizing that oh, maybe_ this _is what love is. A white-haired woman asking if he wants to join the resistance, earnest expressions and hopeful planning. Tuxedos and wedding rings and watching the same black haired boy who’s not so little anymore give a best man speech. The white-haired woman handing him his child, his daughter and he can’t handle the emotion bubbling up in his chest because he will protect this little girl with the entirety of his being. Peace, spending time with family, kisses pressed to caramel skin, small children squealing in delight as two girls bounce at the end of the bed. Explosions, shackles around his wrists, purple and black room. Hope for a new team, hope that dies when the fires start. A vast black emptiness and then light when the door to his cell opens and he sees a skinny kid shoved into his cell with him, his short brown hair and blue eyes somehow relieving the despair._

Shiro’s images end and then immediately after, someone else's start. He isn’t sure who’s until he recognizes the signature white hair of the man laughing in the memory.

_A huge home, empty rooms that never feel lonely. Curling up on the couch with her father, her mother humming to a tune no one else can hear in the kitchen. Being tackled by her dog, entering the plane of darkness and shadows for the first time, crying into her father’s shirt. Going to school with kids that are like her, meeting two boys that she becomes friends with almost instantly, playing on the tire swing with them. Taking them to the shadow realm. Training with her father, learning the ways of the G.A.L.R.A. of the resistance because someday this will be her job.  Fighting alongside her father and her friends, wanting to help in any way she can, shackled on the stage, fighting against captors, blood, blood, blood. Two little girls hugging her skirt, their soft hair trailing through her fingers as she brushes it, humming the same song her mother used to. A ginger-haired man holding her when things become too much. Visions of death and violence and loss and the black haired boy she had been friends with now a man with his own family helping her through it with a hand on her shoulder. Finding a team, a team she can hope in, maybe, someday._

Allura’s thoughts are also edited, even more so than Shiro’s, showing them just what they need to know. He takes a deep breath, feeling the connection to Allura strengthen. He thinks that this is it, that they’re done, it’s over, and then he’s assaulted with a shaking image of himself, standing at the edge of a stage all too similar to the one in Allura’s memories.

_There are chairs broken and strewn across the concrete, charred bits of wood and metal and fabric exploding in an outward arc. Keith is standing at the middle of it, his hands sheathed in flames as he stands in a defensive posture across from a man that Lance recognizes. Lotor._

_Lance watches as he, another version of himself, races forward, drawing water from a nearby drinking fountain. It explodes, showering everything in a sharp rainbow of water, but Keith’s flames don’t go out. They flare brighter as Lance steps in front of him, a spear of ice clutched in his fingers._

_“You’re not going to touch him,” he says, fury deepening his voice, turning it dark, dangerous._

_“Is that so, little paladin?” Lotor drawls, his arms beginning to crackle with a strange energy that Lance doesn’t recognize. Lightening, maybe? “If I remember correctly, that last time we fought, you lost. Badly.”_

_“That was before,” Lance says, and he’s confident, this other Lance. Keith steps up beside him, a malicious grin overtaking his features that makes the real Lance shiver. The other Lance, the one with so much mastery over his abilities, has a different reaction, a matching smile bursting across his lips as his gaze darts in Keith’s direction, “This? This is now.”_

_There’s a bright flare of energy and then Lance is standing in relative darkness, the land around him a mass of swirling shadow. Red and purple stars dot the horizon, but they’re odd, nothing like the night sky he’s stared at so many times before._

_When he glances down again from the strange sight, he realizes he’s not alone. There’s a woman standing there, a woman who’s familiar and yet not, her white hair glowing in the darkness of the surrounding area._

_“Lance?” she whispers, and he nods, unsure if he’ll be able to speak if he tries._

_“I know this is all new, and confusing,” she says, stepping forward to gently touch his cheek, “I’m Allura. This is the astral plane. I’m going to send your spirit guide to you now, okay? Do not be alarmed.”_

_He doesn’t have time to answer before she fades away. He’s alone in the darkness now, or, at least, he thinks he is. He can hear something howling in the distance and he isn’t sure if it’s the wind or something alive._

_He glances up at the sky again, more as a way to avoid looking at the shifting shades in front of him than anything else, and is vaguely surprised to see that one of the stars is brighter than the others. It’s blue, and growing steadily larger the longer he watches until Lance realizes that not only is it not slowing down, it’s speeding up and it’s heading straight toward him._

_The star crash lands a few feet from him, blasting him back a few feet. He groans, the sound echoing in the space around him. Gingerly, he pushes himself into a sitting position and finds himself face to face with a… lion?_

_The blue, glowing lion stares at him for a long moment, it’s yellow eyes unreadable. Then it leans its head down and gently nudges his forehead with it’s own, pressing against him in a manner that’s terrifying at first but quickly becomes reassuring._

_He doesn’t hear the lion’s thoughts in words, exactly, but more like a general feeling. This is his spirit guide. This is the creature that will protect him from the dangers of the astral plane while he connects with the rest of the Voltron coalition, will provide a physical manifestation of their link so that it doesn’t drive him mad._

Then he’s snapped into his own body and he gasps, his eyes flying open as sensation floods back into his fingers and toes. Everyone else is doing the same, blinking at one another like they’d never seen each other before.

Allura is the only one who hasn’t resurfaced, her body lying on its side, chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. Lance has a feeling that she wore herself out and needs to sleep the ritual off, but he isn’t really sure _how_ he knows that.

“Are we… are we done?” Keith asks, his voice cracking as he stands, his hands shaking at his sides.

“Yeah I-” Shiro starts, but after the first word, Keith’s bolting from the room.

They all stare at each other, and then Pidge shrugs and says, “I mean honestly, what did you expect.”

It’s decided that Shiro will take Allura back to her rooms, and find Coran to check on her. That just leaves Lance with Hunk and Pidge.

It’s fine for a bit. They try to act like everything’s normal, but when Lance brushes his hand against hers on accident while trying to get comfortable on the couch to watch another movie, and the bond between them zings painfully to life, Pidge finally snaps.

“Listen, no offense, but this whole… connection thing is going to take some getting used to,” she says, pressing her fingers into her forehead, “I… You guys are great and I trust you with my life, but it’s weird having you in my head. Being right next to you while figuring that out is a little much, okay?”

“I get that,” Hunk says placatingly, “I think we all are a little tired anyway. Why don’t we rest up and we can try again later tonight?”

Lance nods, feeling only half aware of what’s going on around him. The other half of his conscious is absorbed with the blue lion, feeding him information about what the others are seeing and feeling, information he doesn’t want to know but is occupied with anyway.

_Pidge is frustrated, Hunk is exhausted, Shiro is worried, Allura is darkness, Pidge’s power level is low, Hunk’s power level is low, Shiro’s power level is low-_

He screams mutedly into his pillow. God, it can’t be like this forever, can it?

Finally, his awareness of Hunk drops off, then Pidge. Shiro follows, and Lance recognizes this as his friends finally succumbing to sleep.

Lance tries. He really does. But his brain keeps circling around and around, images of him and Nyma laughing together, of his home on fire, of Keith face the moment it turned to flame-

He gets up, despite his fatigue. It’s barely afternoon and somehow he’s ready for a full night's rest. The ritual or connection or whatever took much more out of him than he expected. Everything feels like it had been rushed, like he’d been given little choice in the matter and something in him wanted to run away, wanted to return to his little home in the Hotel, regardless of if Nyma waited for him or not.

Instead, something pulls him deeper in the warehouse. He’s too tired to fight whatever it is, so he wanders through the dimly lit corridors, blinking the bleariness from his vision as he finds himself in front of the only room with real walls in the place - the training room.

He’d been through it earlier with Pidge and Hunk, so he enters, intending to collapse on one of the foam mats and hope sleep takes him, but when he turns after closing the door behind him, he realizes he’s not the only one there.

Keith is slumped against one of the far walls, staring at him with dark expressionless eyes, his posture expectant. What he’s expecting, Lance isn’t sure, but he’s ready for something, that’s for certain.

“Hey,” Lance says numbly, and Keith nods back to him in greeting.

He thinks that he should probably leave but his legs choose to ignore that thought, instead giving out on him. He slides down the wall and settles his head on his knees.

“You can’t sleep either?” he finally breaks the silence. He can’t see Keith’s face, but he expects that it’s probably twisted with distaste for having to speak with Lance.

“Nope,” Keith says, short and to the point.

Lance realizes that out of everyone, the person he feels the least is Keith. He hasn’t been getting any thoughts, any emotions from this guy, and he would wonder why that is except he’s too tired.

The silence becomes awkward again, but it’s Keith who breaches it this time, much to Lance’s surprise.

“I uh. I wanted to say I was sorry,” Keith mumbles and Lance’s head darts up to stare at him.

“What?”

“For… going off on you like that. I… I saw what happened to your family and fire must be awful for you and then I…” Keith trails off again, his gaze trained steadily on the ceiling, “So I’m sorry.”

There’s genuine regret coming from him now. Blue whispers to him that Keith means this apology. How Blue knows this or how Lance knows that the lion’s name is Blue is an issue for another day.

“It is,” Lance says, “Fire is bad, I mean, but it’s… okay. You went too far, yeah, but I also shouldn’t have goaded you like that.”

Keith looks shocked at this statement, his dark blue eyes finally flicking over to look at Lance and then shifting back to the ceiling, “I’m working on it. We’ve got the dart gun for a reason.”

“Your power is that unmanageable?” Lance asks, despite knowing he shouldn’t.

“Control is… difficult sometimes,” Keith admits and Lance knows the feeling.

“Yeah, I get that,” Lance commiserates, he understands, because honestly, his ability is the same. He isn’t sure if Keith just never learned control or if he’d lost it along the way like Lance had, but either way, Lance _does_ get it. So he decides to forgive Keith. For this, at least, “My mutation hardly functions most of the time and then when I least want it to flare up, something stupid will happen, like the toilet exploding.”

“Really?” Keith says, and his lips quirk up, “That must make it difficult to take a shit.”

“You have _no_ idea,” Lance groans and there’s a quiet sound from Keith and Lance realizes that he’s _laughing._ Keith is laughing. Keith, whom Lance had never seen anything but anger from before yesterday, has shown more emotion in the last twenty-four hours than Lance had witnessed their entire high school career. “And look, I’m… I’m sorry too. For bringing up what happened at the tech tower.”

Keith’s expression darkens, but it’s not directed toward Lance this time, “It’s okay. I need to get over it.”

“Get over what?” Lance asks, genuinely curious, “What happened that day?”

Keith stiffens and Lance immediately senses his mistake, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked-”

“It’s fine,” Keith cuts him off, but Lance can tell it’s not fine, it’s very far from fine, “Have a good night Lance.”

He stands and stalks out of the room, shoulders stiff and jaw working. He doesn’t look at Lance as he goes, shutting the door with a careful deliberateness that Lance somehow knows is an attempt not to slam it.

Lance knocks his head back against the wall, “God damn it.”

_‘Good night’?? It’s barely two pm. Fuck. Way to go, Lance, you upset him once again._

At least Keith hadn’t tried to set the building on fire this time.

Baby steps, right?


	10. Hunk: Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunk tries to come to terms with the new connection he has to his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been much too long! I hope you enjoy, dears.

**Three Days Earlier:**

He’d known from the moment that Shiro suggested it that forming the bond this early was a bad idea. Sure, some of them were more than a little familiar with each other, hell, he and Lance were best friends, and Keith and Shiro were brothers, but that didn’t mean that they wanted to be inside each other’s minds.

One Allura woke, she assured them, over and over again, that it would fade. They wouldn’t feel each other’s emotions forever. It was a temporary thing, just until their bond settled.

While Hunk believed her, it made for a very awkward, very strained breakfast that morning. And when none of them could stand to be in the same room as each other for more than a few minutes before things become too _much,_ Hunk knew he needed to get out of Arus for a few days.

So he packed  a bag, told everyone he was going to Shay’s, and that was that. Lance protested, pulling him into a hug that was surprisingly painful for both of them. Pidge wrapped her tiny arms around his middle and Shiro clapped him on the shoulder in the way that he did. God, Hunk had missed that. So, so much. It hurt him to leave them all, especially Coran and the girls, who aren’t involved in this, not really, but it has been a long time since he’d spent any quality time with Shay anyway.

So he straightened his backpack on his shoulders and headed out into the bright sunlight.

 

**Now:**

The alarm goes off.

It’s too early.

Much, much too early.

He reaches over Shay’s lightly snoring form, intending to smash the snooze button, but his girlfriend's hand shoots out and catches his wrist. She makes a tutting sound in the back of her throat and he groans, wiggling his fingers until she lets him go.

“We have to get up babe,” Shay sounds regretful, “The day awaits.”

“Comfy,” Hunk grunts and Shay reaches over to tug at the strands of hair that flop across his face when he collapses onto his back once again.

“Hunk…” Shay sighs. He doesn’t move. She suddenly, startlingly, springs up from her pillow, straddling his torso with an ease that he still finds impressive after all these years. He knows he’s not a small person, but Shay isn’t either and that’s why it’s perfect.

“Hunkalicious,” she says, punctuating the teasingly said name with a kiss on his bare chest.

“Hunk o’ love,” she skates her fingers along his rib cage and he jumps, because she knows he’s ticklish there and oh no-

“Sweetness,” she jabs her fingers into his sides and he rockets into a sitting position, trying to force her off because he’s _giggling_ and he’s too old for- “Sugar bear, Chocolate Chip, Cinnamon Roll.”

On each word she expertly tags the places she knows he’s the most sensitive and by the end of her little game he has tears on his cheeks and he’s fully and completely awake.

“What?!” he gasps when she finally pauses long enough for him to breathe.

“Wake. Up,” she smiles and then kisses him on the lips. When she pulls away, the sun does that thing where it hits her brown eyes dotted with spun gold in such a way that the whole world is contained within them and he’s having difficulty taking in oxygen again but it has nothing to do with being ticklish.

“I’m up, I’m up,” he complains and she flops sideways onto the bed, setting him free. She pads into the bathroom to start getting ready and he reluctantly slides from the comfort of her bed, ignoring the pull of the many rocks she keeps lining her shelves. It isn’t for Hunk’s benefit that they’re there. Shay is a human geologist. She wasn’t born with a mutation, but ended up being mistreated by the G.A.L.R.A. for her defense of the way they gathered natural resources. That and her protestation of the way they dealt with mutants. It had resulted in her losing her job and being forced on the run, landing her where she was now- in one of the many refugee camps protected by rebel groups. Usually, the G.A.L.R.A. didn’t find it worth their time and energy to harass the town, but there were the rare occasions where it happened. Shay’s part of the watch, along with her brother, Rax. While it can never replace her old occupation, it’s a way she feels she can contribute to the cause.

He opens the door to her room and is almost immediately assaulted by Rax as he races past the doorway, stuffing a hat onto his tightly curled brown hair, “Mornin’ Hunk. Grandma forgot to buy eggs last night, she says sorry!”

Hunk tries to stifle his groan because he _had_ been planning to make omelettes. He troops down the stairs after Rax, shuffling into the kitchen to find Sophia, Shay’s grandma, already sitting at the dining room table. Her mother and father are probably already at work, and it seems like her brother is on his way, stuffing his shoes into boots as he shoves the door open with his shoulder.

Shay lives with the entirety of her family in a townhouse that’s mostly intact. They have running water on

the good days and electricity from a generator. Shay and Rax have their own rooms, their own spaces. It’s a nice house and Hunk feels good when he visits here. There’s a sense of cohesion, of family, that he hasn’t felt since he was with his moms in the refugee camp there. It’s a reminder that there is a home waiting for him, that he might even be a part of this one, and that maybe, if he tries hard enough, he can turn Arus into one.

“You making breakfast?” Sophia asks and Hunk’s face cracks into a smile.

“”Course Grandma,” Hunk answers, stepping into the rundown kitchen. They don’t have the size or

versatility in their appliances like Arus does, but this space is almost more familiar to him by now, “I was thinking omelettes, but _someone_ forgot to pick up the eggs.”

When Hunk turns to look at Sophia, she has a look of innocence on her wrinkled face, her hands clasped on the table, “Whatever do you mean?”

“Oh never mind,” he mumbles, not actually upset, and sets to making toast for Shay to take with her when she goes to work. He’ll probably join her later once he makes everyone lunch and help with clearing some of the more difficult bits of rubble that lined the edge of the town from a wayward fire bomb that the G.A.L.R.A. liked to set off as a warning.

He’s about done putting Shay’s favorite jam onto the toast - strawberry- when Sophia pipes up behind him, “It’s been three days. What are you running away from, dear?”

He almost drops his knife, “What?”

“You don’t spend this much time here unless you don’t want to go back,” she says, staring over at him with

piercing black eyes.  

“I missed Shay,” he says and he knows his tone is too defensive, but he can’t help it.

“I’m sure you did,” Sophia rumbles, gesturing with a gnarled hand toward one of the pieces of toast that Hunk is holding limply in his fingers, “But there’s something else.”

“There’s-” his denial gets stuck in his throat as Sophia’s stern expression melts into sympathy, “I’m having a hard time getting along with my team right now? Kind of?”

“And staying here is going to solve that how?” Sophia asks and stands, snatching the bread from Hunk. She stuffs it into her mouth as she watches him, waiting for his response.

“I guess it won’t.”

“No. It won’t. Go back and talk to them, figure this out. The world needs Voltron.”

“But-”

“Grandma’s right,” Shay says as she glides from the last stair to the floor, her short hair tied away from her face with a clip, “Your friend was too. Getting Voltron together and functioning as a team is important. Go back and fix this. I’ll still be here when you return.”

His heart squeezes and he sighs. He points to the toast that’s waiting for her on the counter and she skips past him, dancing around his form to scoop up her breakfast. She kisses him on the cheek as she goes, whispering, “I love you, but I’d better not see you when I get back.”

 

**Now:**

He listens to Shay. Not because he’s afraid of her, or because he feels like she’ll be angry if he didn’t, but because she gives good advice and he knows, deep down, that she’s right. He makes it back to Arus by noon, much to the shock of Lance, who’s on guard duty. Or, at least that’s what he says, but Hunk suspects he’s just there to get away from everyone else since he doesn’t remember having to do watch rotations before.

“Hunk, my man!” Lance exclaims, and Hunk doesn’t know why this surprises him, but it does. It’s only been three years since he’s spent quality time with his best friend, but the fact that some things have changed so much and others so little still throws him off sometimes, “Three whole days, dude. Three days that you left me with Pidge, who I love but doesn’t people well, five people I literally just met and fuckin’ _Keith.”_

And now Hunk feels bad. He needed to get away for a bit, but maybe three days was a bit much. Maybe it’s not so deep down that he knows Shay is right.

“I’m sorry-” he starts, but Lance waves him off.

“Eh, I know you needed some ‘me’ time,” he says, making air quotes in suitable places, “No one’s judging you. We’ve all stayed away from each other these past few days, let me tell you. It has gotten better though.”

Lance is right too. Hunk had barely registered Lance’s presence and Lance hadn’t noticed him at all. His friends are still there, in the back of his mind, but they’re faded, unnoticed unless he focuses on their energy. It’s a vast difference from the blind confusion of a few days previous, an uncertainty about who felt what and if Hunk had ever been just one person.

“It wasn’t really ‘me’ time,” he says, falling into step with Lance as they make their way through the warehouse, toward what he hopes is the kitchen. He’s hungry. “I was with Shay.”

“When you’re with someone you love,” Lance spins to face him, walking backward, “It’s the same thing.”

He has this knowing look on his face and Hunk wonders, briefly, if Lance actually loved this Nyma girl or if it was another one of his fads. Judging by the expression, it’s probably somewhere in between, this gut feeling he has about how much he knows of Lance and how much has changed.

“I do love her,” Hunk agrees and Lance’s face lights up.

“That’s really awesome Hunk,” he slings an arm around Hunk’s shoulders and he doesn’t even have to stand on his tiptoes like he used to in high school. Not that he’d had to do it in college either, but Hunk’s been thinking about high school a lot lately, being back with Keith and Pidge and Lance all at the same time, “I hope someday to have what you’ve got, if only I could be so lucky.”

There’s something in his tone that doesn’t match the happy look in his eyes and it’s odd how good Lance has gotten at hiding his true emotions. Well, if he’d been able to hide that he was a mutant for so long, maybe it isn’t so odd. Maybe this Lance, right here, is the real one, the one that Hunk had been too self-absorbed to notice.

“Come on man, I can hear your stomach rumbling,” Lance says with a laugh and a leaping step in the right direction, “Coran’s been cooking while you were gone, and let me tell you, I’m honestly surprised we’re all still alive.”

Hunk winces. “Me too.”

 

**Now:**

They all eat together. Hunk isn't really sure how it happened. One minute he’s alone with Lance, talking about nothing when Pidge appears from the shadows and joins in, babbling about one of her latest projects. Hunk gives her some input and Lance fades into the background, a small smile on his face. Allura is next, followed by Coran as she asks _what that wonderful smell is_ and Shiro wanders in not long after, both of his daughters trailing him. Everyone is talking at once and filling each other in on what they've been doing for the past few days that he almost doesn’t notice Keith standing next to him until Hunk asks for someone to pass him the salt and the tall black haired man had done so, sliding the shaker across the counter without taking his eyes off the conversation.

They’re all eating now, stuffing their faces in silence. Even the girls are quiet, which is a miracle. The only sound that echoes in the large open space is the sound of chewing, the occasional swallow, and the clink of glasses being set on the granite counter. Finally, Shiro clears his throat and nods in Hunk’s direction, “I have to say, I think the thing I missed the most being gone for a year was your cooking Hunk.”

That of course prompts Charlie to start protesting and then Shiro grins and tickles her, and ruffles Eliza’s hair and assures them that _of course he’s just kidding, he missed his two little fighters most of all,_ and Hunk hates to break the silence, but he can’t get Shay’s grandma’s words out of his head.

_The world needs Voltron._

“Guys… I think it’s about time we start to train as a team.” He hears himself saying, and the entire group turns to stare at him in shock.

“I agree,” Shiro says at the same time as Keith’s muttered, “It’s about damn time.”

They both glance at each other and then Shiro’s smiling and Keith’s scowling and Lance is clapping his hands together in that way that means the decision is made even though there hasn’t even been a discussion.

“We were just waiting for you to get back buddy,” Pidge says, patting him on the shoulder as she passes by to put her plate in the sink.

Allura looks pleased, her hand on Coran’s arm, “Coran, if you wouldn’t mind powering up the paladin training sequence, level one?”

He gives her a sly grin and fear coils in Hunk’s stomach, because he’s tried all the different settings in the training room and he’s never even heard of the one for ‘paladins’. He may have made a mistake. Slight, small, tiny error.

“Hunk, it’s going to be fine,” Shiro says without even looking at him. How the _fuck_ does he do that? It’s like because he’s the leader he’s got some sort of sixth sense, “You know how to fight well and you’ve got good control over your element.”

“I’m not worried about me,” he says automatically and regrets it when both Keith and Lance stiffen, “I’m just… all of this happened really fast, you know?”

“It did,” Shiro agrees, and then sighs as Eliza spills her peas all over the floor, probably on purpose, knowing her, “But the bond is a lot more subdued now. This isn’t intended to throw us into fighting right away. We’re going to explore how we’re connected to each other, how things are different now. I think Allura’s plan is to have us try to connect with our spirit guides first so that we can figure out a bit of what we’re doing.”

“Shiro’s right,” Allura chimes in, her arms folded over her middle, “It won’t be anything too intense for the first day. You all need to know how to do things safely so that we can start training on our own time again.”

“Please,” Keith says emphatically, “Seriously, Coran locked me out of the training room the afternoon you left and it’s driving me nuts.”

“He’s been hitting the punching bag in his room non-stop,” Lance grumbles, “All I can hear is the stupid chain rattling while I’m trying to sleep.”

“I could make you the punching bag instead,” Keith growls and Pidge rolls her eyes.

“Don’t pretend you sleep Lance,” she says with an airy easiness that’s kind of alarming considering how serious her statement is, “And this is why we need to train together. Come on you two, we need to figure out how to be a team or whatever.”

“You just want us to figure out Voltron on the off chance it helps us find your brother,” Keith snaps back and Pidge rounds on him. Hunk bristles too, because that’s not fair of Keith to say-

“Yeah, so? Wouldn’t you? If it was Shiro?”

“I-” he pauses, glancing at Shiro who’s sitting at the table with one raised eyebrow and then back at Pidge, “I… We... “

Normally, when someone becomes embarrassed or upset, they seem to sort of collapse in on themselves. Become smaller, less, somehow, at least in Hunk’s experience. Keith is the opposite, if possible, in the way he puffs his chest out and his arms cross over his chest and he raises his chin as if to say _yeah well I may not know what I’m talking about but fuck you anyway_ and it might be one of the most interesting and odd things about the guy to be honest.

He pushes past Pidge and Lance and even Coran who is re-entering the room. Coran, ever the gentleman, lets him pass without a word, his eyes questioning. When he turns them on Shiro, the air elemental just shakes his head.

“Was it the thing I said? About not being worried about my power-” Hunk pushes his chair back from the table just in time to have Pidge interrupt.

“Na, he’s just being his usual grumpy self. He’ll get over it.”

Shiro nods in agreement, a fork in his mouth as he carries his plate and his daughter’s utensils over to the sink. Lance just shrugs and helps clean off the table. It’s weird. Not that Lance is cleaning, but that he… suddenly seems to fit, watching everyone straighten up the kitchen like they usually do after he cooks and Lance being a part of that.  

Once everything is picked up and the girls are settled for a nap, they all make their way to the training room. Keith’s lounging on one of the mats already, watching them enter with wary eyes. Pidge sits on one side of him, Shiro on the other, then Allura, Lance, and Hunk, forming a circle as Allura motions for them to do. Hunk kind of wonders if Keith is going to protest being involved in this, but he doesn’t, instead moving his hand just a little to the right so that he can tap the back of Pidge’s hand. She taps back, with her thumb against the inside of his wrist, a motion that could be seen as accidental, except for the small smile that twitches at her lips.

“Is everyone ready?” Coran asks once they’re situated.

“Yes sir,” Keith drawls and Shiro shoots him a look that’s a mixture of exasperation and humor. The rest of them agree in a similar fashion and Coran dims the lights with a shouted command.

“I want you all to focus on the connection you have with your spirit guide.”

“Was that the lion thing we saw when we were in the astral plane?” Hunk remembers being surrounded by the purplish darkness that usually indicated Allura’s power is being used. He’d only been there for a second, but there’d been a bright flash of yellow light and a lion had rubbed against his hand before he’d woken up. He hadn’t thought much about it until now, what with the hearing his teammates thoughts thing, but now he wonders if that had happened to anyone else.

“Yeah, I found Blue there,” Lance frowns, “That’s her name. I think.”

“Blue is correct. The names given in the astral plane aren’t the most creative,” Allura says with a wry smile.

“Allura, you see the future, right?” Lance asks, as if suddenly having thought of something, and Allura nods, “I saw… something different right before I went into the astral plane, something that wasn’t your memories.”

“You saw one of my visions of the future?” Allura sits up a little straighter, her blue eyes troubled, “I… I was attempting to hide those from you all, as it can be dangerous to know your own fate. Especially since the future is not set in stone. What did you see?”

“I…” Lance trails off, glancing over at Keith for whatever reason, “Uh, it was nothing, but did anyone else see something?”

“No,” everyone says at almost the same time.

“Oh,” Lance scrubs at the back of his neck with one hand, “Well, no big deal then. We can keep going or whatever-”

“It’s fine if you want to talk about it Lance,” Allura reassures him but Lance shakes his head.

“Na, seriously it was nothing, just a blurry shot of the ground and then… um, Hunk was there and he looked a little older, that was all. Keep going, it's not a big deal. This training is important.”

“That it is!” Coran interjects, effectively derailing the conversation, “Concentrate on your lions!”

Hunk isn’t really sure how to do that, but when he delves into his own mind, he realizes that there’s something there, something that hadn’t been before. Curious, he pokes at it, and it unfurls, bits of glowing gold energy swirling through him until before him stands a yellow lion, it’s glowing eyes peering into Hunk’s own. He almost screams, but doesn’t, somehow.

The lion gently nuzzles his forehead and he knows that this is Yellow, that this creature is here to protect him, to keep him safe, and that it cares for him very much. He reaches up, wondering if the lion is corporeal and he’s surprised to find that his fingers twine into the softest fur he might have ever felt, twisting through his fingers like it was perfectly natural to have a tangible glowing yellow beast manifest from his own mind.

Yellow whispers something to the effect of _look up_ and he does, shocked to see that there is a group of six lions in the middle of the circle, all of them glowing different colors. Allura’s creature is pink and sitting by her side, looking natural there. She catches his eye and smiles, “I’ve had Rose since I was little. She took the form of a lion, and so too do your spirit guides, as they are gathered from my power.”

“Why didn’t we notice her before?” Pidge questions.

“You cannot see her unless you are connected to the astral plane. Up until now, she would have been invisible to you.”

Shiro’s lion is black, outlined by a shimmering white energy that mirrors his new hair. The lion gently presses it’s forehead into Shiro’s and he leans into it, his mechanical fingers wrapped in Black’s fur much the way that Hunk’s had been in Yellow’s moments before. Keith’s already got his head resting on Red’s middle. The lion’s licking his forehead and Keith’s batting him away but there’s no anger there, only affection, and Hunk thinks that this might not be the first time in the last three days Keith’s called his lion into corporeal form. Pidge is hesitant, her small arms reaching out to Green, who already has her head resting on Pidge’s shoulder. Yellow stares from where he’s sitting in front of Hunk and then he comes full circle to see that Lance is grinning maniacally as Blue nips at his toes before padding up to collapse across Lance’s lap.

While the lions are tangible, they must not have any weight, because Lance’s expression doesn’t change as the massive lion settles itself across his legs.

“I want you to attempt to summon your elements while maintaining your lions in their physical forms,” Coran instructs, “You may each pick a corner. We’ll see how this goes, and maybe we can do some demonstrations between the two of you with how the lion connection can be used in a fight!”

Everyone stands and Hunk groans because ugh he thought Coran had said this would be _easy._ Shiro jogs after Keith and Pidge, which isn’t right because his space is at the center of the room since he’s the least likely to injure someone with his power, but he understands when Shiro clasps a hand on Keith’s shoulder and leans over to mutter a barely audible, “When was the last dose you took?”

Keith grimaces, “Two hours ago.”

Shiro sighs, “Just try your best, alright?”

Keith’s got this odd expression on his face, one Hunk can’t interpret, “Who told you?”

“Allura,” Shiro says and Keith’s glare shifts to Allura, who meets his gaze unflinchingly, “She thought I should know, and she was right. You should have told me. Just be careful, alright?”

Keith ducks his head, pulling away from Shiro, “Yeah.”

Pidge notices Hunk watching in much the same way she had and shrugs. Apparently she doesn’t know what that was about either, but they each head to their stations, beginning the sequence of training exercises Coran prepared.

It isn’t actually as difficult as he thought it might have been. Yellow takes a bit of concentration to stay connected to, and so does his power, but they’re so similar that they start to blend in his mind. He’s sweating and has the strange urge to make cannolis by the time Coran lets them quit two hours later, but he feels good. Really good.

“I think now is the perfect time for a demonstration of how joining together can assist,” Coran has that look on his face that means he’s pleased with something that the rest of them aren’t going to like very much, “Keith, Shiro, I think you two will work well together for this demonstration.”

Shiro steps forward, “I’m not-”

“It’ll be fine,” Allura pats him on the shoulder and then gives Keith a little shove. He rolls his eyes but sidles forward, coming to stand in the middle of the room next to his brother.

“You two are going to fight the gladiator,” Coran’s grin is positively evil.

“Alright-” Keith cracks his knuckles and Coran’s grin widens as he interrupts.

“Using _only_ your powers.”

“Oh _come on-_ ”

It’s too late though because the barely visible barrier is up and the gladiator hits the mat with a satisfying _thud._ Shiro immediately smacks it away from Keith’s direction with a gust of wind.

“Alright you four,” Coran turns to the rest of the group, his hands on his hips, “Now's the time to focus your energy on Keith. Give him some of your strength and lets see if we can heat this fight up a little, eh?”

“You are enjoying this far too much Coran,” Allura groans and the red haired man cackles.

Hunk does as Coran instructs. It’s hard at first, but Yellow helps, passing through the barrier as if it doesn’t exist to gently press against Red. Green does the same, and Rose, then finally Blue. Keith’s eyes flash open, and they’re glowing red this time. It’s just the iris’s instead of his entire sclera and it seems to be as shocking to Keith as it is to the rest of them.

“Coran, what _is_ this?” he asks, his attention directed toward the gladiator, but his panic directed toward the rest of them.

“Just a little boost is all,” Coran’s arms fold innocently in front of him and then the room lights up as Keith ignites his arms and his grin is almost a rival to Coran’s.

“It’s _amazing,_ ” He breathes and Shiro makes room for him.

“Welcome back,” Shiro wipes some of the sweat from his forehead and dodges an attack from the gladiator, “Little help please?”

It’s pretty spectacular, Hunk’s gotta give it to them. They were strong fighters before all of this, but Shiro’s fighting style has changed, gotten less honorable and more street friendly, something that matches Keith’s original brawling methods. As long as Hunk has known Keith, the guy has never had spectacular control over how he uses his flames, but now he’s pulling out moves that Hunk didn’t know he was capable of.

Shiro sends a gust of air toward the gladiator and Keith scoops a flaming hand into the air stream, using it to increase the size of a fireball he lobs in the robots direction. He’s leaving scorch marks on the floor as he walks, using the fire to speed his steps, slashing with a sword made of flame that passes right through the bot but leaves a long ragged melted section on the robot’s body.

Shiro is grinning and he says something to Keith, who laughs. They’re having fun with it, easily keeping the bot at bay. Hunk’s starting to feel the smallest bit of drain on his power, but doesn’t stop supplying it to Keith. He isn’t really sure what’s going to happen when the connection ends, either because he runs out of power or because he manages to sever it, but now is not the time to find out.

Coran presses a button on a small remote he pulls from his pocket and the gladiator performs a complicated twirl, dodging Shiro’s strike and throwing a hard right hook in Keith’s direction that he barely manages to duck under. Something’s wrong, though, because Shiro’s just standing there, staring at the gladiator with a look of horror and disbelief. Keith seems to figure out something’s going on as well, moving out of the way of the next blow even as he begins to edge back toward Shiro’s location.

“Shiro?” Keith says as the gladiator turns its bo staff in the wind elemental’s direction, “Shiro!”

As soon as Keith realizes his brother isn’t going to defend himself, he throws himself in front of the next strike. A hit intended for Shiro’s chest bashes against Keith’s upper arm and the two of them go sprawling, landing with a loud grunt and a shout to “end training sequence!”

The barrier immediately dissolves and they all rush forward. Hunk’s lion returns to him, gently nudging his hip with it’s nose and Keith staggers in his attempt to regain his feet, sitting down abruptly.

“Shiro?” Allura asks, kneeling next to the man who still hasn’t responded to the sound of his name.

“Shiro,” Keith says, reaching forward to touch his brother’s arm, and Shiro shocks back to awareness with a gasp.

He stares up at Keith and croaks, “Adam?”

Keith flinches, “No, it’s just Keith. Do you remember where you are?”

“Yeah, yeah, I…” Shiro glances up at them, his gaze lingering on each of their faces for a long moment, “I’m fine. Sorry, I think I kind of spaced out there.”

Keith still looks concerned, but he pats Shiro’s shoulder and stands, “That went pretty good, I think, all things considered.”

He’s trying to provide a distraction, trying to give his brother a chance to recover, and while it’s an easy to see through strategy, no one resists it.

“It went better than I expected, to be honest!” Coran says cheerfully.

“What was that?” Hunk asks, “That we did with Keith and Red?”

“Yeah,” Lance chimes in, his hands tucked into the front pockets of his blue jeans. He looks nervous, like he isn’t sure he should ask, but he does anyway, “Were we like, giving him energy or something?”

“That’s correct number three!” Coran answers, and then twirls his mustache between his index finger and his thumb, “I have your ranked by height, mmmkay? Anyway, I had you four combine some of your energy with his in order to augment his quintessence, which is essentially the source of his energy, of his mutation. He tends to have difficulty getting enough power to create the actual flame, which is why once a steady and consistent stream of power was introduced from you four, through the bond, he was able to use his mutation with ease.”

Hunk does feel tired. He’s exhausted, actually, “That… makes sense.”

“It’s the first step to introducing the six of you to the new ways you can fight together! Now, we’ll start round two!”

“As much as I appreciate your help Coran,” Allura says smoothly, “I think we could all use the rest of the afternoon off.”

There’s a collective sigh of relief, even as Coran frowns, “Well, I suppose, if you think it’s best.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Shiro grunts, pulling himself to his feet with Keith’s help, “If I’m this exhausted, I can’t imagine how the rest of you feel. I’m gonna head to my room for a nap. Maybe we can try again later tonight.”

He brushes off his workout pants and strides to the door, letting it click shut behind him.

“Is he okay?” Hunk murmurs, something like worry swirling through his gut. Worry? Fear? Anxiety? It’s hard to tell the difference sometimes.

“I don’t know,” Keith’s brow is furrowed and his arms are crossed over his chest, “I really don’t know.”


	11. Pidge: Close Encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge just wants to find her brother

**Now:**

She isn’t really sure how long it’s been since she’s slept.

No one has bothered her since Keith was tasked with bringing her a sandwich several hours ago and she’d knocked it off the table in a fit of frustrated anger. He’d let it fall, picked up the sandwich off the floor, brushed it off and set it on the table again. All he said was “Hunk would be pissed if he saw you wasting good food” before he slipped back out again without meeting her eyes.

She feels bad now, of course, but honestly, he still hadn’t apologized for hitting her with a pillow yesterday when she hadn’t moved out of his way quickly enough. So her guilt isn’t too all-encompassing. She ignores it.  

She ignores it until the hunger comes back and the sandwich is gone but she doesn’t remember eating it. Her program is loading anyway, analyzing the latest surveillance videos she managed to hack into from a facility two hours north of Arus. She stands, her back cracking in at least six places before she manages to creak her way toward the kitchen.

She finds the fridge, steals an apple and some sliced pieces of her favorite cheese that she’s pretty sure Hunk probably left for her and then she slinks back to her cave and finds that software has finished running. She stares at the results, shock shivering through her as she recognizes the face on the screen.

Pidge drops the apple first and then the cheese and she doesn’t know how to react because this isn’t what she had been expecting when she went to get her snack but there, on her monitor, is Matt.

 

**Now:**

She checks her watch again. It’s still ten pm and while she knows that most people would be asleep, team Voltron will probably be in the training room. They aren’t much of a team most days, but in the two weeks since they’d gotten their spirit guides and begun to train together they have gotten a bit closer. At least, she thinks it’s been two weeks.

The door to the training room is open and she can hear her rock playlist blasting through the speakers. Keith’s in there, for sure, since he’s the only one other than her who will listen to it when he’s sick of his own playlists. It’s not like they really have any kind of public radio anymore, not since the G.A.L.R.A. took over communications across the country. Their ability to acquire new music is limited at best.

She steps onto the springy mats, surprised to find Keith and Lance training alone in the large space. Keith’s got a training sword, his hands extended, a fierce expression on his face and Lance is in a defensive position in front of him, his look of concentration almost hilarious as he tries to maintain a wall of water. She clears her throat and the water splashes to the mats, settling back into the foam and the water chamber beneath with a small gurgle.

“Damn it Pidge!” Lance exclaims, throwing his hands up into the air. Keith slides the practice blade back onto his belt like he would any other sharpened sword, oozing confidence, “I was actually getting it that time!”

“Why are you two in here?” She asks, momentarily derailed, “Alone?”

“Shiro went to grab a snack,” Keith steps off the mat, unbuckling his belt to throw it on top of the pile of other training gear. They hadn’t bothered to put things away properly for a while now, considering how much time they spent working on how to fight as a team these days. “Wanted Fishboy over here to work on his shielding against melee opponents.”

Now that it was too cold for them to use their makeshift outdoor pool made of stray concrete, metal piping and the inventive use of a tarp created by Hunk and Pidge herself, they’d taken advantage of their resident water elemental and created an indoor swimming area, carving out a large section of what used to be the reception area of the factory to make a pool. Lance had immediately dived in and stayed under for so long that everyone had been a bit concerned he was drowning, earning him the name ‘fishboy’ from Keith, who Pidge was almost certain didn’t even know how to swim.

“No,” Lance shoots back accusingly, “He got pissed because _you_ wouldn’t leave him alone about his flashbacks.”

Keith turns toward Lance with murder in his eyes, “Excuse me? You’re the one who asked _me-”_

“Maybe he just wanted to see if you two can get along if left unsupervised,” Shiro interrupts, entering the room with a peanut butter sandwich clutched in his prosthetic fingers, “Which he would then observe upon returning, that no, you cannot.”

Lance opens his mouth to say something, likely in protest, but Shiro barrels onward, “Pidge, what’s up? First time I’ve seen you out of your room all week.”

Right, yes, words- wait, all week? Why hadn’t they dragged her out for training? Had she really been that grumpy? True, she’s had weeks worth of data to sort through, all gathered while they were looking for Lance, and during their first stint of training together when she hadn’t had time to do the work she’d needed to but-

“Pidge,” Shiro says again, sounding concerned, “When was the last time you slept?”

“Dunno,” she responds automatically and Shiro’s frown deepens, “But uh, no I came in here because I got a hit. On my data. The data.”

“Pidge, did you-” Shiro’s expression turns to one of excitement, of happiness, joy.

“I think I found Matt,” she interrupts and then Shiro’s hugging her and Keith’s grinning as he explains to Lance what that means, exactly, “I found him Shiro. He’s… he’s at a camp about three hours from here and they transported him there yesterday, and he’s so close, Shiro, _so close.”_

“We’ll get him,” Shiro promises, finally setting her back onto the ground, “We’ll find him Pidge, and bring him home. But first, you need to sleep. We all do. Get four hours of a nap in, _please,_ just so you don’t collapse of exhaustion the second we get onto the battlefield and then we’ll be in the humvee, I promise.”

Keith brought back a G.A.L.R.A. issue military vehicle when he’d returned, before they found Shiro. No one knows where it came from, and they are all afraid to ask, but it’s times like this when it becomes extremely handy.

She wants to tell him no, that they’re leaving now, but she doesn’t because she knows he’s right. She’s exhausted and so is he and they’re in no condition to infiltrate a highly secure G.A.L.R.A. prison. She’ll still negotiate though, “One hour.”

“Four,” Shiro counters, “And then at least another hour to plan. We can’t go in blind or else we’ll risk Matt getting caught in the crossfire.”

“Fine,” she grumbles, because yeah he makes sense, she guesses, “No longer than that though.”

“Understood,” Shiro says and Pidge has a sudden thought, a worrisome thought. Shiro hasn’t been out in the field since they got him back. It’s been just training and spirit guides and getting to know one another again and even though he’s been trying to take it easy he’s still been struggling. They know he’s having flashbacks, Pidge saw it before, in her dad those years he was part of the resistance, but no one will tell her why. Why Keith doesn’t look confused, just sad, and why Allura seems to be one of the few people who can calm him down and why he’s having these at all, what happened to him that she didn’t see in the link to make him this way? She’s not angry that no one tells her these things, because she hadn’t even told Lance that her family was missing, she had no room to judge, but she did sometimes think about it while her program was loading or she was trying to force herself to sleep staring at a blank ceiling above her head.

“Shiro,” Pidge says cautiously, and everyone turns to look at her again from where they’d been scrambling to get ready for bed, “Are you sure it’s a good idea if you go on this?”

The three guys all freeze. Pidge can tell Lance is shooting her ‘abort mission’ daggers from his side of the room where Shiro can’t see him, but Pidge doesn’t much care.

“I’ll be fine,” Shiro answers gently, “I promise. I know what I’m doing. And besides, we might need Voltron, right?”

Once again, yes, he was right, but she hated to admit it, wanted to shield him from the terrible things he’d experienced in the past. She couldn't. She knew that. “Sure.”

She almost turns to leave, to let them handle the mess themselves because she doesn’t want to be roped into cleaning up the equipment when she notices Keith and Lance’s lions lounging in the corner. Red has her paw on Blue’s back, using it as leverage to lick lazily at Blue’s ear, smoothing the fur there. Keith clocks her distraction and follows her line of sight, halting mid-motion when he sees the scene in front of him.

“Is that…?” she says, ignoring what might be a pleading look from Keith, “Are you lions cuddling?”

Lance turns so sharply from where he’d been putting his pads back that Pidge swears she hears his neck crack, “No, they’re not-”

Lance begins to make unintelligible protests as Keith says, “Red.”

His lion perks up, immediately disengaging from Blue as she pads over to her paladin. As soon as they make contact, Red disappears, dissolving back to pure energy.

“They were just trying to stay dry,” Lance croaks and Pidge grins.

“Lance, they’re astral lions. They don’t have to be corporeal if they don’t want to.”

Shiro gives Pidge an amused smile, then offers the two beet red men in front of him a chance to recover, “I’ll pick up the rest of the equipment. You two get some sleep.”

They scurry from the room without further prompting, jockeying for position to see who could make it out the door the quickest. Their sighs of relief are audible even with the door closed.

“I wasn’t going to mention it,” Shiro laughs as soon as they’re gone, “I figured at least some part of them was getting along.”

“Just how big is that part I wonder?” Pidge rolls her eyes, reminded of two days ago when she caught them about to fist fight over who had used the rest of the hot water. But then she thinks of the accidental food fight that happened later that evening because of a pea Eliza had flung at Allura and she considers taking back her statement. When they’d wrapped up, they’d all been happy and exhausted and Lance had said “You know I don’t actually hate you right now” and Keith had actually _smiled._     

They’re not friends but she thinks maybe they’ll get there. Neither of them are bad people, but their shared history would make it difficult for anyone to get along, she supposes. Honestly, if she hadn’t been so close with Lance in high school, she didn’t know if she could become friends with him in a span of two weeks either.

“Get some sleep, Pidge,” Shiro says, interrupting her tired mind ramble. She nods, unable to argue that yes. She needs sleep. So, so very badly.

**Now:**

She wakes four hours later, groggy and still exhausted. She just wants to keep sleeping, to continue her dream of her family being whole and together, but she knows that in order to make that happen, she has to get up and get going. Matt is out there, waiting for her, and she isn’t going to find him if she stays in her bed.

She pushes aside her blankets, glad she actually made it to her mattress before passing out. Her bare feet hit the smooth concrete and she shivers, snatching her sweater and slippers off one of her many countertops. She slides them on bit by bit as she makes her way toward the door.

Everyone will meet her in the kitchen. She assumes. It doesn’t matter, because she’s going there more for the coffee than the people anyway. She’s the first one there, but she isn’t alone for long, joined almost immediately by Keith.

“Were you waiting for me to come in just so you could?” she accuses and one side of his lips quirks upward in response.

He takes the proffered cup of coffee, one she’d made almost subconsciously. She’s usually the first in the kitchen and he’s usually the second and they usually both want to kill someone before their caffeine. It’s routine now, she guesses.

He sits down heavily, his shoulders hunched as he wraps his long fingers around the mug. She doesn’t notice until then the pronounced dark circles, the slight shaking in his fingers-

“Are you okay?” he asks, dark blue eyes that are nearly purple peering at her in concern from beneath a layer of black bangs.

She laughs and he looks confused, startled almost, “Sorry, I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

“I’m fine,” he says, taking a sip of his coffee, “Just tired. Seriously Pidge, are you okay?”

She shrugs, but Keith doesn’t give up, “We’re going to look for your brother. This is the closest you’ve been to finding him in three years Pidge.”

His words hit her like a sledgehammer blow to the sternum and she loses her breath for a second.

“I know,” she says quietly. She keeps her hands busy, pouring water and grounds into the coffee maker. Shiro will want a cup when he gets here, and Lance too. “I know and it’s terrifying because I can’t get my hopes up. I can’t think this is anything but a normal mission because if he’s not there-”

Her voice cracks and Keith sets his cup back onto the counter very gently, almost as if he’s attempting to avoid startling a particularly jumpy deer. She hates feeling fragile, vulnerable, and she went from being “okay” to “not okay” in the span of a second. It’s terrifying.

Some kind of conflict passes over Keith’s expression but she turns away, not wanting him to see her fear. His chair makes a loud scraping sound as he pushes it away from the table, and she thinks he’s leaving- Keith's never been great with emotions- but instead she feels a gentle tap on her shoulder. She glances back and sees him standing there with a deeply pensive look on his face and his hands outstretched in a gesture that is meant to indicate she should hug him. She almost rejects it because she’s _fine,_ she can take care of herself, but she knows deep down that Keith’s not implying she can’t. It’s okay to depend on her friends, and Keith, as unlikely as she would have thought it to be years ago, is her friend.

She throws her arms around his chest and presses her face into his sternum and Keith gives a surprised grunt as he catches her. His hugs aren’t like Hunk’s, which are soft and comforting, or Lance’s where it seems like he just wraps you up in his long limbs, or Shiro’s that are firm and affectionate and make you feel small, protected. Allura’s are soothing and motherly, with her hand rubbing circles into your back and Coran’s are fierce, almost desperate. Charlie and Eliza’s are sloppy and warm. Keith’s hugs are stiff and awkward but then he relaxes and they become strength and encouragement. It’s not a long hug, but it gives her courage, somehow. Like Keith transferred some of his faith in her into her body. Maybe he had. The link between them all is a tricky thing.

They pull apart and she wipes her nose and Lance chooses right then to stumbled into the room. His eyebrows raise as he takes in the suddenly awkward atmosphere and the closeness of the two in front of him, “Did I interrupt something?”

Keith snaps, “No.”

Thankfully, just then the coffee pot begins to fill and it distracts Lance from his thoughts about whatever he had imagined what was going on before his entrance. Which is good, because now Pidge can’t _stop_ thinking about it. _Oh god, does he think we’re dating? That we were kissing or something? Shit. No. God no._

“Lance,” she blurts, because she has to say something. This cannot stand the way it is. What should she say? She’s too tired to deal with this right now, “Keith and I are just friends.”

Lance gives her a look, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively, “Sure you are.”

“Lance come on,” Keith groans, his face in his hands as he straddles his barstool, both elbows thudding firmly against the island.

“Excuse me!” Pidge protests, turning to face Lance. Her face is on fire and she kinda wants to slap him but she feels like that’d only encourage him more, “For your information, Keith’s gay! So _obviously_ , there’s nothing between us.”

She glances over at Keith because _oops_ she really honestly hadn't meant to bring his sexuality into this, but he’s not even looking at her. He’s slumped forward so that his forehead is resting on top of the wooden surface, his eyes closed. He’s still clutching his coffee mug in a death grip.

“Pidge,” Lance says lightly, peering at her over the lip of his coffee mug as he goes to take a drink, “I was just messing with you. But good for you buddy.”

There’s an audible sigh from Keith as Hunk enters, just in time to hear Lance’s last comment, “What’s good for who?”

“Good for Keith. He’s gay,” Lance explains.

Hunk nods, “Yeah? I’m straight.”

Pidge shoots him an odd look and he shrugs.

“What? I thought we were just announcing our sexual orientation or something. Lance, are you gay? Why are we talking about this?”

“Talking about what?” Allura asks, waltzing into the kitchen like she didn’t just spend the last eight hours getting two young girls into bed, training and then trying to get something resembling quality sleep.

“Keith being gay,” Lance says absently, “No, I like women, that’s a definite truth.”

“You don’t have to be straight to like women,” Allura comments with her head in the fridge. She pulls out a carton of milk and pops it open, drinking straight from it. Pidge would think it was disgraceful except she’d forgotten to run the dishwasher with all the cups in it last night so she knows for a fact that there’s none in the cupboard.

“True,” Lance says thoughtfully, reaching around Hunk for the sugar. He pours a generous amount into his coffee, “Pidge, I thought you were gay?”

“Who’s gay?” Shiro ducks into the space, patting Hunk on the shoulder as he passes behind him.

“Keith,” everyone says in unison.

There’s a thumping noise that Pidge can’t place for a long moment until she realizes that Keith is rhythmically thunking his head on the table.

“Keith’s gay?” Shiro says, eyes wide. One hand comes up to hover over his heart and he theatrically stumbles back a step, “K-Keith, why didn’t you tell me?”

Keith raises his head. There’s a red mark just above his left eyebrow and Pidge can’t help but giggle, “Shiro. Please don’t.”

“I… thought you felt like you could trust me. I’m your brother and I-I-” Shiro’s such a bad actor, but he does manage to get just the right amount of humor in his voice. Keith, however, seems anything but amused by the situation, “Na, really, why are we talking about something we’ve all known since he was like three at two am?”

“Shiro you didn’t even _know_ me when I was three!” Keith throws his hands up into the air, “Shiro’s gay! Why don’t you guys talk about that!”

“I’m what the kids are calling ‘pansexual’,” Shiro corrects, “Cheer up man, no one cares.”

“You try having a conversation this early in the morning about who you like to have sex with,” Keith grumbles pillowing his head on his arms.

“Wow Keith. Nothing about love and affection and deep romantic connections. Just sex with you, huh,” Lance says and Keith groans, burrowing into the crook of his elbow.

“Fuck off McClain!”

“Listen, I would, but as we established, I like women, not men with mullets. Also, this is a public place and-”

“So you like men without mullets?” Pidge pipes up and Shiro’s laughing now, Allura too, “So like, if Keith cut his hair, you’d fuck him?”

“Oh my god,” Keith yells, his words muffled by the table, “PIDGE.”

“I mean, maybe if he was wearing high heels or something,” Lance counters smoothly, “Mullet, sit up a little, I wanna see if your jawline measures up to my standards.”

“Like square-wise or feminine,” Hunk asks and Lance pretends to consider.

“Keith does have pretty high cheekbones,” Shiro muses.

“Shiro!” Keith warns, his voice low and dangerous and that’s it, they’re all gone, doubled over with laughter.

It lasts for another minute, maybe two, jabs poked in everyone’s direction- no one’s spared, not even Coran, before Shiro says, “This is a great conversation guys, it really is, but we should probably focus on the task at hand.”

At his words, her heart wriggles back into her throat and she thinks she might actually throw up. She doesn’t know if she can do this. She has to do this. Wants to do this. But the thought of it has panic tingling in her fingertips-

Hunk gently pats her shoulder on their way to the table. Lance pulls out her chair without a word and Shiro nods at her, a reassuring motion that holds the world. They don’t say anything to her, not really, but somehow she knows how much they all care just by the way that they’re looking at her.

“I have an idea,” Shiro says slowly, and they all gravitate toward him, “But you’re not gonna like it.”

“Try me,” Lance sounds determined, bold.

“You and Hunk are going to be the decoys while Keith, Allura, Pidge and I go in,” Shiro begins, but he’s immediately cut off by Hunk.

“What?!”

“Yeah, no I second that,” Lance protests.

“I did say you two weren’t going to like it,” Shiro raises an eyebrow, his metal arm resting on the table as he stares at Lance.

“Nope. Veto’d, never gonna happen,” Lance shakes his head, his arms crossed over his chest. His pj shirt is one of Hunk’s old ones, so it’s a bit too big on him, the sleeves bunched up at the elbows, “Next idea.”

“Yep. Not happening. Absolutely not. There’s got to be something better,” Hunk agrees, his eyebrows knit together in worry.

That’s how, almost exactly two hours later, Hunk and Lance are standing in their gear outside of the G.A.L.R.A. facility, looking miserable in the faint early morning drizzle.

“Decoys are in place,” Pidge whispers into her helmets headset. Lance pouts, his arms still crossed over his chest. She’s pretty sure they haven’t budged since Shiro initially suggested this idea.

“Just for the record, I think this is a terrible idea,” Lance scowls.

 _“As we heard you say six thousand times,”_ Keith’s voice crackles through the comms and Lance’s face darkens.

“Well, that’s cause it’s terrible!”

“Lance, this may be our best option for getting my brother back,” Pidge adjusts the strap on her knee guards. They all have on their black combat gear, ready for a stealth and infiltration mission. Lance and Hunk are the only two not outfitted in full gear, their helmets marked with bright yellow and blue stripes that Coran thought would make the act a bit more convincing.

“I know,” he grumbles, pulling at his spandex shirt until it lays flat. “I’m just nervous. This is going to go fine and we’ll see Matt soon, I’m sure.”

She can hear the fake confidence in his voice now. She thinks it’s the same voice he used to use in high school when he hadn’t prepared for the exam, but she can’t be certain.

“Good luck,” she whispers, because she’s going to feel horrible if they get hurt trying to get _her_ brother back, but this is what she has to do. They have a plan, and it’s a good one.

“We’ll be fine,” Hunk reassures her, tapping her on top of her helmet, “Seriously. We’ll be the most ridiculous decoys that you’ve ever seen.”

“That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest,” Pidge grins and taps his visor right back, “See you guys soon.”

“Be safe,” Lance says and then they’re walking away from her, right toward the front of the building.

It’s where they’re supposed to go, where they have to go, but everything in her is screaming that it’s _wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong._

She, on the other hand, steals back into the woods. She’s too far out of range for the G.A.L.R.A. security scanners to sense her, but she moves quietly all the same, attempting to make as little noise as possible. The others are waiting for her in the spot they’d scoped out, a place where the cameras are few and hopefully any noise they make will be masked by the commotion Lance and Hunk are about to create.

She makes it to Shiro’s side just in time to hear Lance’s voice echo in her helmet, “Oui! G.A.L.R.A. plebs! We’re here to have a little chat!”

That’s their cue. She taps the back of Keith’s hand and he steels himself, his eyes closing as he calls on his power. She feels it tingling in the back of her skull, and Green stretches in what might be anticipation. She’s not corporeal at that moment, but Pidge understands the sentiment all the same.

They chose a very particular area to make their entry. There are only two cameras that have visuals here, both of which are also able to swivel toward Lance and Hunk’s location. If this goes according the plan, the G.A.L.R.A. will consider keeping an eye on the intruders more important than canvassing an empty part of the forest.

“Hey, be gentle!” Lance protests, and Pidge wonders what exactly is going on over there, “We’re giving ourselves up, okay?”

Lance and Hunk are the only ones that could pull this off. Their abilities make it easy for them to escape while causing minimal damage. They both can use long distance and splash like attacks against enemies, unlike she and Keith who fight best in close range, Allura who needs to concentrate to use her escape route, or Shiro, whom they’re all a little uncertain of at the moment. Coran is feeding them information from Arus, keeping an eye on the girls while prepping for the inevitability that one of them will return injured. It’s a good plan, a solid one, but it still turns her stomach into knots.

Keith nods at the rest of them and then he bites down on his lower lip, hard, and holds one arm out. He traces a large circle in the metal wall with his hand, the red beam of concentrated fire burning through with little resistance. When he’s finished, the wall collapses outward, pulled and dropped to the ground silently by a few of Pidge’s vines.

They move in. There’s a loud commotion over the comms and the ground shakes. They all make eye contact with one another and there’s apprehension there, but then Shiro motions them forward and they move.

The rumbling continues. Pidge hopes its enough to keep the G.A.L.R.A. focused on Lance and Hunk and not on the cameras in the rest of the facility. They make it down several of the twisting hallways, the metal walls and concrete floors achieving the sterile look Pidge is sure they’re going for.

She glances behind her twice. She’s leading the pack, as this is her mission, her brother and when she does, she can’t help but notice that Shiro’s looking a little green. Keith keeps darting his eyes in his brother’s direction, his lips pulled into a thin line. Allura, with her hair tied into a tight bun at the back of her head, nods in Pidge’s direction, puts her hand to Shiro’s shoulder and keeps hustling forward.

They come to a split in the passage.

“We’re going to have to go two and two,” Shiro instructs and she tries not to panic. This isn’t part of the plan. This isn’t how things are supposed to go.

“Shiro-” Keith starts to argue, but Allura steps in.

“Shiro and I will take the right, you two go left. If you find anything or encounter any trouble, report. I’m sure Lance and Hunk won’t be able to provide the distraction much longer, so make it quick.”

"That's exactly right Princess, Lance and Hunk are going to find themselves in a pickle entirely too soon," Coran updates them from where he's got access to the cameras on everyone's helmets. 

Before she knows it, the two older members of the team are gone, disappeared down the dimly lit corridor, leaving just her and Keith. Keith, whom she is affectionate about, sure, but who is not the most reliable when it comes to these sorts of things. Yes, he can fight, but what if they don’t _need_ to fight?

She stuffs those feelings in a box, locks the box, shoves it under the covers and pretends they're not there, just like she has every other time.

They quickly make it to the first set of doors leading to what she thinks is a set of holding cells. She circumvents the security, it’s not too intense. Clearly the G.A.L.R.A. aren’t expecting anyone to attempt to break _into_ the prison area.

She unlocks all the doors. Then she enters.

“I… I’m in,” she says, and she hears a sigh of relief from Shiro.

“Good!” Lance yells in return, “Because we can’t hold them off out here much longer. Hurry!”

“On it,” Allura’s voice sounds just as confident through the comms as it would be in person, “Pidge, take who you find there back to the exit we made. We’ll meet you there in a few ticks. Shiro found an area that looks familiar, we’re going to see if there are other prisoners being kept there.”

“Sounds good,” she breathes, keeping her voice low as she steps into the first of the cells. It’s empty. The next isn’t. There’s an older man in there, and her heart leaps for a second before she realizes that his hair is too dark to be her father’s and she tries not to let herself be disappointed.

“We’re here to get you out,” she hears Keith murmur behind her, and she turns to see him helping a small girl to her feet. She’s crying, tears streaming down her dirty face, but as soon as she’s steady, Keith’s moving on to the next cell, his expression grim.

“Everyone who can walk, help those that can’t,” she instructs, scanning the small crowd of people that are beginning to gather in the middle of the hall. There’s probably fifteen of them all together, and there’s no way that this group is going unnoticed on the G.A.L.R.A. cameras. If they haven’t already registered the unauthorized cell access, that is. “We’re going to have to move quickly and quietly, alright? We’re going to be meeting some people by the exit and we’ll be out of here in no time.”

She doesn’t see her brother. She tries not to despair, tries not to get overwhelmed because Shiro might find him. Shiro might find Matt and then everything will be on its way toward being okay again.

“He’s not here,” she informs her friends. Keith’s shaking his head as he pulls the last man from his cell, meeting her eyes over the mass of newly released captives, “We’re moving toward the extraction point.”

“Got it,” Hunk grunts, “We’re on our way as well. Coming in hot.”

“Roger,” Allura whispers.

They make their way back out into the main hall. Pidge is in point again, carefully poking her head out to check both directions for G.A.L.R.A. soldiers. There’s none in sight, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t coming. She gestures for the prisoners to follow, darting back the way they came.

Keith takes up the rear. He’s the last one out, last one in the long line of people. She can’t see him anymore, not til they reach the junction again and she sees, way down the tunnel, an explosion of fire rock the facility. And she knows.

“Go, go, go!” she screams, giving up on stealth, “Follow this line to the end, there’s a hole there. It opens up in the forest and there will be people waiting to take you to safety!”

Or at least she hopes there will be.

The prisoners scatter, racing toward escape as quickly as they can with the weak and injured. Once they’re all past her, she turns toward the hallway, prepared to fight with Keith if need be. She’s surprised when she instead sees the black-haired man sprinting toward her, his eyes wild as he grabs her by the front of her gear and bodily throws her after the others, “Run! There’s too many of them!”

“Shiro!” she screeches, “Allura, we’ve got to go, come on!”

“We’re coming,” Shiro pants and she thinks she might be able to see them, “We’re almost there-”

There’s the patter of gunfire and then she’s blown backward by a massive gust of air. She hits the floor, hard, no time to summon of protective vines to absorb the blow. There’s nothing green in here anyway. It’s all cold, dead metal, and that’s never seemed more like a travesty than right now.

Shiro’s in front of her when she finally regains her footing. The air is smoky and dark and one of the fluorescent lights is loose and flickering. She can’t see Allura or Keith but that doesn’t matter because on the other side of Shiro are G.A.L.R.A. soldiers. Dozens of them.

“Katie, I want you to go,” Shiro says, in a calm, even voice. He doesn’t look at her.

She doesn’t bother to respond, glancing behind her instead to see that there are still injured too close for comfort, struggling along. If this turns into an all-out brawl, someone’s going to get seriously hurt.

“Did you find Matt?” she asks.

He shakes his head, almost imperceptibly.

They’re going to die and she didn’t even free her brother. A scream wells in her throat, but she doesn’t let it out, doesn’t give it the substance it begs for. It would be too much like admitting defeat.

Something on Shiro’s face is glowing. There are… arrows, almost, under his eyes, and dots along his nose and by his jaw. His eyes, too, glow when he opens them. It’s like when Allura is in the astral plane. She has the same arrows on her face but hers are pink while Shiro’s are… purple?

There’s a sudden pull and her legs give out. Shiro moves like a blur, his metal arm igniting with purple light. No bit of the air around them is still. It vibrates, shakes with energy and she watches in amazement as vines sprout from the clump of dirt next to her head. They snake out and anchor the G.A.L.R.A soldiers, just in time for Shiro to smash through them with a loud concussion of air that makes her ears ring.

She isn’t calling the vines. Is it Shiro? It must be him. She’s never seen him use this level of power before, never seen him like this. She wonders where he’s getting it from, and then realizes as she begins to lose feeling in her fingers, her toes, that he’s getting it from _her._

 _He’s killing me,_ she notices, distantly, _he’s taking everything._

“Shiro, stop!” someone screams from above her, and she looks up in surprise to see Allura crouched over her. Her white hair billows away from her face in long waves and she looks like an avenging goddess with her eyes awash in a pink light, those jagged lines under her eyes igniting the area like an unexpected burst of starlight. She looks so desperate and fierce that Pidge wants to cry.

She _is_ crying. She doesn’t know when it turned from a thought into reality, but there’s definitely wetness on her cheeks.

Strong arms pick her up. She can’t do anything as she’s carried except listen to the voice, the rumbling that echoes over and over.

_I’m sorry Katie, I’m so sorry._


	12. Allura: The Rebellion's Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo this is not necessarily up to my usual standards for posting but uh whatever, I wanted to get a chapter out. Here y'all go.

**Thirty Years Ago:**

She was born during the height of the hero age. Well, not precisely in the middle of it, more toward the end, just before things began to decline. She remembers enough of it to bring a bad taste to her mouth every time a memory surfaces. But it took a long time for her to become this jaded, cynical. 

When she was born, she was safe, and warm and loved and cared for and that was all that really mattered. All that should matter. 

**Twenty Six Years Ago:**

Her father was on T.V. almost every night. He always came home dirty and tired but he always had time for her. Always played with her on the large expanse of soft carpet that made up her living room, took her for walks on the weekends, picked her pretty flowers from the back garden and made her a crown of them. She would be queen someday, he told her. She would be the one to take his place as the leader of the Hero Guild. 

She didn’t know, at four, that they weren’t really royalty, that she would have to work for the position of Princess if she actually wanted it. The title wasn’t even technically correct. “Hero King” was just a nickname for her father, who’s ability to form living creatures from flame made him one of the most powerful mutants in the world of hero work. She was the Princess only because others believed she would follow in his footsteps. 

Her mother tried to shield her from it best she could. Said that Allura was too young to have that much responsibility, but her father ignored that. She needed to know what was expected of her, what was waiting for her when she got older. 

She can still see the way his eyes gleamed when he talked of her future, the  small smile that played about his lips. He wanted that life of success, of happiness for her. 

She wonders what he would think of her life now. 

**Twenty Two Years Ago:**

She visited all her father’s factories for the first time when she was eight. He made enough money to keep them supplied, these five facilities that researched and created clean sources of energy through the ingenuity of mutants and their designs. He was paving his way to a better future, everyone said. 

That same year, she was sent to school. Hireviell Elementary for the Gifted. It was an elite training facility where the children of the best heroes went. There were tons of kids she knew in her class, her grade, and tons she didn’t. You didn’t have to have famous parents to go there, just have a power strong enough to need hero training. 

She didn’t have a power yet. Her mother wanted to keep her out of school another year, home school her until she had shown what her mutation would be, but her father insisted she not fall behind. 

That meant she did all the same workouts as the other kids, honed her mental abilities, tested her strength- all without any actual powers. It was awful at first, but she made friends pretty quickly. They helped her. A boy named Shiro who was the same age as she was and Adam, who was in the grade above. Adam lived up the street from Shiro and they were already good friends, but Allura fit in with them like she’d known them just as long as they’d known each other. 

**Twenty One Years Ago:**

She discovered her abilities when she was nine. They were on the playground together when her vision blanked and she saw… 

_ An adult with a shock of white hair at the front, kissing another adult. There were bells ringing  _ _ and someone was throwing white flower petals- _

When she came to, she was lying flat on her back in the middle of a field of grass, staring up at the blue sky and a face. It was a familiar face. Shiro. 

“You alright?” he asked and she nodded, sitting up slowly. Her head hurt. Everything hurt. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” she answered, truthfully. 

But her hair, which had been the same dark chocolate color as her fathers, was now white, like her mothers. They sent for her parents to pick her up. Alfor appeared, then, and carried her to the car despite her protests that she could walk. 

Her mother and father whispered to each other until very late that night. The next morning, they told her she was a seer, that she had the abilities her mother had and had never wanted her to inherit. She wasn't upset then, not like she is now, just had a vague sense of disappointment. She'd wanted something better, something different, something that made her front line hero material instead of just background sidekick.

Adam and Shiro told her that she was great no matter what her power but she thought, maybe, that they were just being nice. Shiro could create tornadoes and Adam knew how to operate any piece of machinery the instant he touched it but all she got was stupid visions that knock her out and make her see things that weren't any help at all. 

**Twenty Years Ago:**

She was in her third year, beginning to figure out how to control the visions, when they happen, what she saw and how far ahead she could go, when something happened that surprised everyone. 

She developed another power. 

It wasn’t entirely unheard of but it was rare. She just up and vanished in the middle of her fifth grade class and for a while they thought she was invisible. 

But she wasn’t. She was somewhere else. She was… There.

There was a terrifying place where the ground shifted beneath her feet and creatures roared in the distance. There was where the sky was purple and there was always lightening and she couldn’t see anything for miles and miles and miles. There was where she met Rose. 

Rose, her wonderful lion. Everyone told her ten was too old to have an imaginary friend, but she knew Rose was real. Coran knew too. Her father and mother, while they didn’t understand, were kind at least. Coran though, he got it. 

Coran was their family healer, hired to patch her father up after fights. Soon though, he became her father’s best friend and Uncle Coran was around all the time to play games with her or help her down when she climbed too high in the trees. He watched her and Adam and Shiro when they played in the backyard and he never worried when she disappeared in the middle of a game of hide and seek because he knew where she was. 

He was the one who told her that maybe the place she went wasn’t all bad. It terrified her at first, but with help from Coran and some of her teachers, she began to realize that it was actually useful. Sure she had to be careful there, as she learned one afternoon when she wandered too far from Rose and came in contact with one of the Astral Beasts for the first time. She’d come out of the encounter with a long scar that wandered from the top of her shoulder down to her back, a scar that had followed her into the real world. 

Her father made her be more cautious after that. She wasn’t allowed to use her power for fun anymore, only training, but after he and her mother went to sleep at night, she and Rose would go explore. In class she learned that the amount of distance she traveled in the Astral Plane was a much greater span of distance in the real world. Once, she’d ended up on the east coast when all she’d been trying to do was go downstairs for a snack. That had been an interesting trip home. 

**Eighteen Years Ago:**

When she was twelve, her father told her about the G.A.L.R.A. for the first time. He’d been working with them to get some more regulations put into place for people with powers, things that will keep the public safe, but when he told her about them, he didn't exactly sound happy. 

They were starting to become more extremist in their policies, he said, but he had it under control. He just wanted her to know what was going on, what she had to expect going forward. She was going to take his place someday after all. 

She spent every day after school with Shiro and Adam. At least, that was, until Adam’s family decided that they were going to move him to a normal school. It was not for mutants, or heroes, but his parents were alarmed by the frequency with which students were injured at their school and took him away. 

She cried all night. Not even Coran could comfort her. She and Rose stayed curled up in her bed for two days after Adam left and she only went to school because Shiro called and said he was going to drop out too unless she came back. 

She went back. It was lonelier with just Shiro as her best friend, but she eventually got used to it. 

**Thirteen Years Ago:**

Junior year was a big year for her. Her life was pretty much what one would expect from a normal high school girl in a hero course. She spent a lot of time with Shiro, made a few other friends she hung out with in class and had a boyfriend who only lasted for about two months before her father scared him off. 

Junior year was a big year though, because that’s when Shiro came out to her. She’d s uspected for a long time, had ideas but didn’t want to make assumptions. He told her, one day when she was giving him a ride home, that he thought he might like boys too and she’d had to pull over so that she could give him a hug. He’d looked like he was going to cry and she  _ did  _ cry, but it was a happy thing. While it wasn’t frowned upon in their society to be gay anymore, there were still pockets here and there that spread negativity about it, just like the G.A.L.R.A did about mutants. It wasn’t ultimately that concerning, but did make one worry every once in a while. 

Junior year was also the year that she meet Keith. Shiro lived alone- his parents died when he was younger and he’d recently become an emancipated minor after living under the care of the school for years- and one afternoon Allura swung by to pick him up only to find that there was a kid standing next to him. A kid who couldn’t be more than 12 years old. 

“Who’s this,” she asked, because Shiro hadn’t given her any kind of warning. 

“This is Keith Kogane,” Shiro answered, like that cleared everything up, “He stole  my car yesterday while I was helping out Professor Helen at the normies school, training some of the kids who might turn out to be hero material someday, if they can ever get their powers under control, and lo and behold, this one,” he gestures to the black haired boy, “steals my car after being told by the teacher he wasn’t ever going to amount to anything. Naturally, I bailed him out of jail and he stayed here last night. He’s going places, this kid. Just watch.”

Allura had stared at him, her mouth open, because how in the world were you supposed to respond to something like that?

Once they were all in the car, she finally worked up the nerve to ask, “Keith, where  is your family?”  

“Dead,” Keith said in a voice that brokered no further conversation. 

While that didn’t fully assuage Allura’s fears, it did help her to understand why  Shiro was so taken with the kid. If he was really a young prodigy like Shiro claimed, and had no living family, his story sounded eerily familiar to the other black haired boy that sat in the front seat next to her. Shiro had money from his inheritance- if he wanted to take care of a nearly teenage child when he was only 18, that wasn’t up for Allura to argue with him about. Sure, they talked over the details later that night after school, while Keith was serving detention, and they got plenty of advice from her parents and Coran, but Shiro was resolute. He was going to help this kid out no matter what it cost him. 

With little choice in the matter, she welcomed Keith into their group. Before long, she couldn’t imagine what life was like without picking him up from track practice or buying an extra donut in the morning for her best friend and his little brother on the way to school. Later that year, when Shiro announced to everyone that he was going to take some legal steps to make himself Keith’s guardian, she threw a massive party in her backyard. She hadn’t expected it to turn out the way it did, but that night… that night was one of the memories burned into her mind, one of the events that when she was having a bad day, she could look back on and remember that there was goodness in the world. 

**Eleven Years Ago:**

After she graduated, she began working with her father. Shiro was immediately drafted as a hero, but she took the sidekick route, preferring to work stealthy and behind the scenes rather than up close and personal. She’d get there eventually, but she knew she had a lot to learn. Nineteen was young to be a hero, and while Shiro had been ready for this life since he hit puberty, she’d realized at some point in high school that she was moving at a bit of a slower pace. 

When she’d been younger, she’d dreamed of being a flashy hero, of being the princess in looks and name and abilities. Now, she knew that it wasn’t the status that was important. It was learning how to help people in the most efficient way possible, doing what needed to be done in the face of adversity. 

And there was a lot of that. 

The G.A.L.R.A. had gained much traction over the years. Her father no longer worked with them, but instead championed against them, the people he used to regard as friends. They were bitter enemies now, arguing over politics and policies across long boardroom tables for hours and hours on end. Her father rarely won those fights. 

She found Adam again that year. He became a pilot, a fighter pilot actually. He tried to keep the use of his power minimal and for emergencies only, but he’d still risen among the ranks of the air force at an swift pace. She gave him Shiro’s number when they finished catching up, and within a matter of weeks, they were all spending time together again, like they'd never been apart.

Even more interesting, was that after three months, Shiro and Adam started dating. She and Coran prided themselves at having set them up, but Shiro continued to insist it was just the natural flow of events. She would then reference the sixty two text messages she’d sent him urging him to ask Adam to coffee just the two of them, in a romantic manner, and he’d roll his eyes. 

**Ten Years Ago:**

She found herself, suddenly and shockingly, without a job. 

Her father too. Shiro as well. No income, no sense of purpose, their livelihoods destroyed with the single stroke of a pen. 

She’d never even gotten to be a real hero. She’d been stuck in her father’s shadow the entirety of her short career and now she’d never have the chance to prove what she could do, how helpful she could be. 

Everyone met at her house. All the main heroes. She knew them all by their actual identities more than she did their hero names. She’d grown up with them all. Mr. McClain, Mrs. Pugian, Mr. and Mrs. Holt, even Arus, the person who’d taken over her father’s factories after his role had been restricted in the financial sector. 

They talk. They plan. They ultimately decided that waiting this out was the best option. Public opinion changed like the tide, her father said. This would all be different next week. They’d be peaceful and follow whatever laws passed until they could get enough traction to get things changed. 

If Allura had known then what she knows now, she would have argued with her father well into the night, changed his mind, done whatever she needed to to get him to fight then, but she was naive. So naive. 

**Nine Years Ago:**

They all took some time out from politics and the nightmare of what it meant to be a mutant in that day and age to attend Shiro and Adam’s wedding. 

They made it as private as possible. The paparazzi seemed to follow them everywhere now, old famous heroes who were out of a job. They almost appeared to be waiting for one of them to make a wrong move, toe a single inch out of line. 

But they were careful about the wedding. It was their time to let loose, to be themselves, and the wedding was wonderful. She was the maid of honor and Keith was the best man and they both gave speeches. She cried the whole way through hers and Keith’s was so ridiculous that the whole wedding party was in a different kind of tears by the time he finished. He took their laughter and the compliments he got after with so much humility that Allura almost couldn't see the cocky twelve year old he had been in his sixteen year old face. At least, that was, until he bragged to her about how much school he got to miss to help set things up that morning.

There was a moment, a single, breathtaking moment, when she realized that this was the first vision she'd ever seen. The moment when Adam and Shiro become lawfully joined to one another. She'd seen it, all those years ago on the playground and had been too young to understand. She hated her power a little less, right then.

After the party, when they were all drunk, even Keith, whom they’d honestly tried their damnest to keep away from the tequila (Allura suspected Coran kept “accidentally” pouring an extra shot on purpose), Shiro asked Allura to be his and Adam’s surrogate. They were both flushed with alcohol and he slurred something horrendous, but it was something he clearly put a lot of thought into. Adam too. She agreed, immediately, even though it wasn’t exactly where she’d seen herself at the age of twenty one, but she’d also intended to be a hero at this point, so why not?

The next nine months of her life were a whirlwind of good and bad. The G.A.L.R.A. continued with their anti-mutant propaganda, but honestly that all faded to the background when she was finally able to hand Shiro and Adam their infant daughter. They named her Eliza Allura Shirogane, and when Adam told her this while holding his daughter for the first time, she couldn't breathe. 

**Six Years Ago:**

She spent much of the next two years babysitting for little Eliza and championing for mutant rights. That was basically all her time spent awake- either taking care of Liz while Shiro and Adam were at work, or following after her father as he stormed another politicians office. 

It was after a week long business trip that she returned to find that Shiro and Adam with another daughter. It was shocking, because she had first hand experience in the fact that it took much longer than five days to produce a child and yet here she was, a little black haired baby named Charlotte with wide solemn eyes and a rare laugh that set the room alight. 

Shiro explained part of the story to her, that first night she came back and asked why there was a three month old baby in their living room. 

“She’s…” Shiro began before pausing for a long moment, “Keith… well, he’s not at  college like he told us.” 

Allura’s heart leapt into her throat at those words. Keith, the boy they’d collectively adopted as a little brother, was supposed to have left for college last year after he’d barely graduated high school. He’d been struggling recently and she’d worried, but she hadn’t realized how bad it was until Shiro told her. 

“He’s been hanging around with a crowd that he probably shouldn’t have been,” Shiro admitted, “Got mixed up in some bad shit. He’s out now, he’s coming home this weekend, but he dropped out of college. During one of the… parties he was at, he found out about Charlotte. She didn’t have anyone to take care of her, and her mom apparently recently died and-”

Shiro cut himself off, running his fingers through his hair, “Well, Adam and I had been thinking about having another kid anyway and… well moral of the story is that we’re planning to file adoption papers this weekend.”

There was something missing from Shiro’s story, something he wasn't telling her, but she knew better than to prod for information. He’d tell her if it was important. 

Honestly, it didn’t matter how they came by Charlotte. The baby was immediately welcomed and Eliza started referring to her as her little sister after a month. Allura adapted, like she always did.

**Four Years Ago:**

The G.A.L.R.A. taking over wasn’t a swift change. It was a slow fire, catching gradually, small flames here and there, but when they were added together, there was suddenly a raging inferno and there was no escape. 

They were corralled into gated communities “for their safety”. She chose to live with Adam and Shiro in their town house. They still needed someone to look after the girls and it was the easiest way for her to do that. Charlotte called her “momma” for the first time while they were living in the town house and as much as she tried to discourage it, Shiro and Adam didn't seem to mind. Keith came over frequently to help as well, in-between the classes he was taking to try to earn his associates degree. 

She hated the way they have to live, hated how things were, but her father offered her solutions for a better future for the kids she loved so much. They were forming a rebellion, a group of mutants who were sick of the peaceful protests and were going to fight back. Shiro joined. Adam too. They were hundreds of them, gathering together in the dead of night to discuss strategy, how to take the G.A.L.R.A. down in a way that would end their reign once and for all. She became close with many of them, Matt in particular, Mr. Holt’s son who was the same age as she and Shiro. He hung out with them many a slow afternoon and she began to consider him as a close confidant. He’d certainly saved her life enough times during missions that she trusted him with nearly everything. 

Keith begged and begged for them to let him join. He said twenty one wasn’t all that much younger than twenty six, that at his age Allura had already been pregnant with Eliza and if that wasn’t being an adult then he didn’t know what an adult was. 

Shiro said no. 

**Three Years Ago:**

She thanked God that Keith wasn’t there that night. 

He was not registered as a mutant, despite his abilities. She knew that they were limited, that they never actually turned out to be what Shiro had thought they could be. She blamed the G.A.L.R.A. for that, for making him stay hidden. She blamed the G.A.L.R.A.  for a lot of things. 

She was thankful then though, that he never had developed into that promise. Otherwise he would have been there, would have been taken too. 

They came with fire, igniting all the wooden houses instantly. She and the girls had been in the park. Shiro was at work, Adam was at home sleeping off his third shift. She’d wanted to go back to him, to make sure he was alright, but she couldn’t leave the girls to the mercy of the G.A.L.R.A. soldiers now swarming the facility. 

They seemed to know exactly who the rebels were. They took Mr. Holt and Matt, oh God Matt. They found Shiro at his job. She nearly was taken as well, but she brought the girls with her into the Astral Plane. They hid there for hours. 

They were terrified, but alive. She located her father, searched for Keith for hours, and when she finally found him, he was with Shiro. They were both unconscious, collapsed in the back of a G.A.L.R.A. truck and when she got them back to the world of the living, neither one was willing to talk about what had happened. 

Adam though, they never find. 

**Two Years Ago:**

They hid in the sewers for a year. She adapted, like she always did. To the sewers, the rebellion, to life without Adam.

They fought back. They do. Her father formed a group of mutants, an elite team he called Voltron. He revealed to her then, after all these years, that he had another power too, a power to connect with certain compatible individuals in such a way that would augment everyone’s abilities. 

It wasn’t enough. 

They were still ambushed in the middle of the night. Still dragged up onto that stage. He still transferred that power to her, anchoring it to the Astral Plane somehow before they kill him. Her mother still predicted Allura’s future, right up there in front of everyone before she too was murdered. 

She wasn’t sure how she managed to slip away, but she did it, falling into the Astral Plane. She didn't leave for a long, long time. 

**One and a Half Years Ago:**

It was Coran and the girls who ultimately brought her back. Rose informed her of their search for her, of their worry. Despite the fact that she never felt hunger or thirst while she was in the Astral Plane, she knew that she couldn’t just abandon them. She had to help them, had to make things happen so that she could give Charlie and Eliza the future that they deserved. 

So less than six months after her parents were brutally murdered in front of her, she formed a new group. She adapted once again. It was much smaller, more easily managed. Just her and Shiro and Coran at first but this time when Keith insisted on joining, Shiro grudgingly let him. He was twenty three now, a grown man, and was more than capable of handling himself. Allura sometimes wondered what had happened to him in the times where he just kind of disappeared from her life, but she never could get a straight answer out of him or Shiro. 

They found two new members, Pidge and Hunk. Keith knew them from school, which is not, coincidentally, how they recruit them. Allura’s visions, previously under her control and inconsequential, had been plaguing her since her mother’s death, more intense than ever before.  She saw Pidge and Hunk as part of their group and knew they had to be located before the G.A.L.R.A. found them first. 

That went well for a while. She and Shiro continued their alternating parenting schedule and now both girls call her mother. 

They should talk about Adam. She knew they should, that they should tell the girls all about their father, but every time she brought it up, Shiro collapsed so far in on himself that she slowly learned to just leave it be. 

**One Year Ago:**

She wasn’t there when Shiro was taken. _Again_. 

It was Keith’s fault, somehow, that was what she had gathered from her conversations with Hunk and Pidge, but she couldn’t get him to talk to her. He stayed there, silent, refusing to answer her questions despite the fact that she had to know where her best friend was, that she had to know where the father of the children she loved was. 

She couldn’t do this on her own. She couldn’t be a single mother to two children who weren’t hers. She loved them like they were, but they had their fathers. Or they should, if this was a perfect world. 

When Keith left her, when he abandoned her to take care of two children by herself, with Coran’s assistance, something in their relationship broke. He had a responsibility for them as well, he was at the very least their uncle. How could he just walk away from them like that?

Shiro wasn’t there. Keith wasn’t there. 

She, however, would be.    
  


**Six Months Ago:**

It was only six months before they find Keith and get him back. As soon as he was in the door she’d pulled him aside and told him exactly what was on her mind. To her shock, he hadn’t even argued. Just tiredly agreed and then left, immediately starting on the task of finding Shiro. 

She started to have visions of Voltron around this time. Not of who was in it, exactly, but that it was something, a big something, that would change the current power structure. She didn’t want to give the others too much hope, especially because she knew the likelihood of succeeding at any kind of revolution was relatively slim without Shiro, but she began to plan again. There would be a rebellion and she was going to be a part of it. 

She and Keith reached an uneasy truce. Strangely enough for how well she knew Keith and her history with him, she began to feel closer to Hunk and Pidge than him. Maybe it was because he never talked to her anymore. Whatever the reason, she felt a certain kinship with the other female member of their team and absolutely adored Hunk for his cooking and his supreme babysitting skills alone. 

**A Month Ago:**

They got Shiro back. 

And everything was alright again. 

She was nervous about forming the bond so quickly, but after she’d explained her visions to Shiro, he’d insisted. He was going to co-lead this with her, she knew, and if he thought he was ready, then she was too. 

It was jarring at first, to be that close with everyone, but after a while, she got used to it. Even started to like it. When she went to the Astral Plane, she and Rose weren’t alone anymore. There were other thoughts there, other lions, other people. 

Other paladins. 

**Yesterday:**

Just as she had been wary about forming the bond so quickly, she’d also been nervous about attacking a G.A.L.R.A. facility on this scale so soon after the team was formed. 

But Shiro had said he was fine. Pidge wanted to find her brother. So she’d agreed, because she’d thought it would be better not to argue. 

She realized, too late, that that was a mistake. She should have listened to her gut, just like she should have all those years ago when her father wanted to lie low. Would she ever learn her lesson?

Shiro was pulling on the Voltron bond, yanking power from Pidge at an alarming  rate. He wasn’t even aware he was doing it, she was sure, his face glowing with a startling ferocity as he fought off the G.A.L.R.A. soldiers. He was just trying to protect them, protect his family, but in doing so he was  _ killing  _ Pidge. 

“Shiro, stop!” she screamed as she knelt over her friend, using all her power to try to cut off Shiro’s connection to the others. He turned, looking back at her in surprise and then his expression faltered and he staggered back toward them, the marks on his face fading back to the normal tanned color of his skin. His eyes too, return to normal, no longer the brilliant purple they had been a moment before. 

“Oh god,” he choked out. They didn’t have time for this. The G.A.L.R.A. soldiers were temporarily incapacitated, but more would be here any second. 

“Shiro, we have to go,” she gently touched his shoulder before she moved to scoop Pidge into her arms, but Shiro beat her to it. 

He muttered something to her while they ran, but Allura couldn’t hear it over the sound of her own breath, her own panic. They made it to the end of the tunnel, to the light and Hunk, Lance and Keith were waiting there for them, agitation clear on their faces. 

“What happened?” Keith asked in a short, clipped voice, but they didn’t have time, didn’t have time-

She opened the portal and shoved them all into it as delicately as one might bowl a strike. She was not losing them. She refused. She'd adapted to change too many times before and she knew that if she lost them, this family, she wouldn't be able to bend anymore. 

She'd break.


	13. Allura: Peaceful Negotiations

_Allura_

**Now:**

She sleeps for 16 hours after that mission. 

When she wakes, she ghosts to the hospital ward, unsurprised to find a scene similar to the one that there'd been when Shiro was incapacitated. Pidge is laid out on the cot, an IV in her arm. Coran’s asleep in a chair by Pidge’s head, no doubt exhausted from his attempts to heal her physical injuries. None of them had been life threatening, but the drain on her power had been.

It’s Lance's turn to provide the energy that's balancing Pidge. He's got one hand on her ankle and he's hunched over the bed, his back arched like a comma. There are dark circles under his eyes but he's awake, blinking at her blearily.

Keith's passed out on the floor, his legs partially under the cot. Shiro stretches out on the other cot, one arm thrown over the top of his head as he stares at the ceiling. Hunk isn't there, but she strongly suspects he's just taking a short break to make them all food. 

“How is she?” Allura whispers to Lance, who licks his lips before answering. 

“Uh,” his voice is hoarse, cracked, “Better. Coran says that she's able to regain her power on her own now, but just to be safe were still feeding her energy and fluids.”

When they'd first brought her back, Pidge had been down to nothing. Coran had been able to keep her from going into total organ failure while they figured out what to do- eventually Shiro realized that if he'd been able to take energy from her, he should be able to give it back. Since then, they'd been keeping her sustained on borrowed power until her body healed enough from the shock to regenerate on its own. If she was finally starting to heal, that meant the main concern now was dehydration. Which wouldn't be a worry at all if Pidge could wake on her own.  _Please wake soon._

“That's excellent,”Allura smiles gently down at him, kneeling on the other side of the bed. The circles under Lance's eyes look like bruises and on impulse she smooths some of his hair away from his forehead. He doesn't flinch, not like Shiro or Keith might have, and she finds that this affectionate thought isn't really surprising. She'd become fond of Lance over these past few weeks. “You look like you need a break.”

Lance blinks up at her slowly, clearly exhausted, “I'm alright.”

“Switch out with me,” Shiros gravelly voice comes from behind them and Allura turns to see that he's sitting up with effort, “I got a nap in-”

“Shiro you kept it up all night, I can help out now.”

“Lance you need to sleep,” Shiro sighs, rubbing his eyes. 

“So do you,” Lance argues, “Why can't Keith do it? He hasn't helped out at all!”

She wonders why until she sees Shiro's face and thinks she knows the answer. 

“Lance, Keith can't,” Shiro begins patiently, but Lance doesn't appear to be placated in the slightest.

“Why? You keep making excuses for him, but it's at everyone else's expense,” Lances voice is piercing, “Keith, get your ass up and help!”

“Lance, don't, he just fell asleep-” Shiro protests but it's too late. Lance, his fingers still connected to Pidge's shin, uses his other hand to slap at Keith's shoulder. 

Keith shifts. Allura can't see his face from this angle, but she figures he must have some kind of pillow or something because his voice is muffled, “Mmm, shit, 'M sorry, 'M awake.”

“Good,” Lance grumbles, “It's your turn, Mullet.”

Keith sits up, blinking over at her with one eye firmly screwed shut against the light. His hair is sticking up all over the place but it's in an endearing way, “Morning Lura. What's my turn?”

“To give Pidge power.” Lance glares at him, light blue eyes throwing daggers into dark blue, “It's your turn.”

It takes Keith a second to process the words before his gaze darts over to Shiro reflexively. Lance starts to throw his arms up into the air before he remembers and keeps one firmly attached to Pidge, “He's not gonna rescue your lazy ass this time, take your turn!”

Allura sees it before it happens. It's not a vision, just a product of being friends with Keith since he was a child. “Keith don't-”

The black haired man turns a furious red, his flush covering the fever spots that had been high in his cheeks. His eyes narrow and his lips press together and he shifts, throwing a solid left hook to Lance's jaw. It's not as well executed as it could have been were he standing, but it hits hard enough to snap Lance's head back. 

Lance is on his feet in a second, Pidge lying there forgotten. Coran jerks awake, just time to grab Lance around the shoulders as he tries to launch himself at Keith, whom Allura has in a firm grip by the shoulder. He could easily pull out of her hold, but he doesn't, letting her yank him out of the room and into the hallway. 

As they're leaving Keith only fights her for a split second, just enough time to turn and say “Ask Shiro why I can't take my turn. Ask him, it's his fault anyway,” like he’s issuing a challenge. 

There's a furious snarl on Keith's features and his eyes are wild, dark. Some of that raw fury fades when Shiro meets it with his own wounded resignation and Allura practically throws him out of the hospital room. 

“What, exactly, was that?” she asks as she pushes him against one of the few concrete walls in the place. He stares at her sullenly, and she hates that he'd shot up to be taller than her in the last few years. He's not her little brother in any legal way, but she's known him long enough that it sort of feels like he is. 

When he doesn't answer, she deftly slaps his bangs aside and rests the back of her hand across his forehead. He tries to duck out of her range but shes too quick and he realizes too late her goal.

“You're warm,” she frowns and he scowls at the floor. 

“I'm always warm, Allura.”

Which is true, he runs at least three to four degrees warmer than the average, but he knows full well that's not what she's saying. She doesn't back down and after a long silence he finally meets her stare. 

He shakes his hair back into position, so that his bangs aren't in his eyes anymore and says, “I wanted to be able to fight.”

“Keith-”

“I know,” he cuts her off, looking back down at the floor, “it was just a few hours over, I thought I'd be fine but then I forgot. Shiro made me take some a bit ago, but now I'm useless to Pidge.”

She’s still frowning, “If you get off the schedule you know what will happen-”

She gets cut off once again as Keith’s eyes widen and she hears Lance from behind her, “So you’re some kind of addict then, is that it?”

Keith stiffens and Allura whirls, pointing a finger in Lance’s direction, “Don’t you dare.”

“What?” Lance asks, his arms crossed over his chest. This man in front of her looks nothing like the one she’s come to know over the past few weeks, the one who’s teaching Eliza Spanish, who acts as a human technology stand for Pidge, the one who nearly got killed fetching flour from a G.A.L.R.A. infested unoccupied zone just so that Hunk could make honey wheat bread, “Isn’t that what he is?”

“No, it isn’t,” Allura snaps, but Keith pats her shoulder, forcing her out of his way. She thinks he’s trying to push past her to hit Lance again, but all he says is, “What did Shiro tell you?”

“That you’re on some kind of power suppressant that prevents you from using your abilities. That you and everyone else here uses it as a way to control your power,” Lance sneers, “Instead of actually putting in the work like the rest of us do. It’s what was in that dart gun that first day, isn’t it, mixed in with the tranquilizer?”

“Yes,” Keith says evenly. His hands are clenched at his sides, “But it’s not just to control my power. If I stop taking it, I could die.”

Lance’s eyes blaze, “Yeah well, you see what happens when you do take it? Other people get hurt. You willing to take the chance that because you’re doped up you won’t be able to save one of us? Pidge was  _ dying  _ and you did  _ nothing.” _

“It’s not my choice, Lance!” Keith spits through clenched teeth, “I want to help her!”

“You always have a choice,” Lance snarls, and his attention flicks down to Keith’s fists, “You gonna hit me again? Won’t change the fact that you’re a selfish prick who thinks he’s so far above everyone else.”

“Me?” Keith laughs, but it’s not the kind, soft chuckle Allura loves to tease from him. It’s low and mean and freezing, “I’m the one who thinks I’m above everyone? Wow. That’s rich coming from you.”

“The fuck that’s supposed to mean?” Lance barks and Keith’s nostrils flare. 

“You’re the one who always had the perfect family, perfect girlfriends, perfect grades, you  _ never  _ had to worry about  _ anything-” _ Keith roars, stepping forward so that he’s only a foot away at most from Lance’s aggressive form. 

“Well they’re all dead now!” Lance thunders, and his face clouds over, dark as a coming storm, “They all burned to a fucking crisp! Bet you get a kick out of that, think it’s some kind of poetic justice, huh?”

Keith’s face whitens and he shrinks back, his mouth opening and then closing. 

“Holy shit,” Allura hears faintly from down the hall, “Lance, buddy, uh, get over here? Now!”

_ Hunk,  _ Allura realizes,  _ thank god for Hunk.  _

“Maybe, if I’m lucky, you’ll join them sooner rather than later,” Lance’s voice is a whip laced with poison, slashing out at Keith like a physical blow. Keith flinches as Lance stalks away, the sound of his sneakers in echoing loudly. They fall silent a moment later as he enters the kitchen and exits hearing range. 

Keith’s breathing heavily, audibly, his brow furrowed and his fingers clenched. He doesn’t seem to notice that Allura’s there, but as she moves forward he spins, smashing his fist into the concrete once, twice, three times-

“Keith!” Allura grabs his arm, but he struggles against her, pushing her away from him, “Keith, stop!”

She stands in his way until his eyes finally focus on her face and he yanks his wrist out of her grip. He stands there for a moment, looking at her with an unreadable expression and then he too storms off, in the opposite direction. 

She doesn’t know who, if either of them, she should follow. Eventually, she just decides to enter the infirmary again. 

Shiro’s sitting next to the cot in the chair Coran had previously occupied. The ginger haired man is rummaging through one of the cupboards, his back to Allura. When Shiro sees her, he offers a rueful smile, one she sees right through, “That went well, didn’t it.”

“I’d say so,” Coran’s muffled words come from where he’s got his head stuck between two of the shelves, “They needed to get rid of some of that tension.”

Both Allura and Shiro turn to stare at him. When he resurfaces, he’s holding a roll of bandages, “What? That’s been building for weeks, ever since we brought Lance here. You had to know that was coming.”

“Yes, but…” Allura isn’t sure what she’s trying to say. That she wanted to avoid it altogether? That seems rather obvious. 

“They needed to yell at each other, get rid of some of the anger they’ve got toward each other. Maybe now they can move onto developing a productive relationship instead of pretending not to hate each other all the time,” Coran hands the bandages to Shiro with a flourish, “I do believe you should go talk to Keith. I doubt he’ll let me heal his hand, but maybe you can at least clean it and set any broken bones for him.”

“Pidge needs me,” Shiro protests and Allura lets out a huff of air. 

“I can take over. You all let me sleep all day anyway. It’s what, ten pm now? Talk to Keith, make him sleep and then you need to get some rest.”

Shiro hesitates, sees the look on her face and finally agrees, “Yeah, alright. Maybe I’ll try talking to Lance too.”

“Hunk has him,” Allura shoos him from the chair, “Now move.”

He leaves, somewhat reluctantly, and she’s alone with Pidge and Coran. Pidge looks mostly alright, just a bit pale, and Allura fixes the corner of her blanket back over her leg. She grabs the girl’s hand, hating how small it looks in her own. Pidge reminds her of Matt so much sometimes that it hurts, but it’s moments like this that highlight the differences. Matt would be thirty right now, well into adulthood and fully capable of handling himself. Not that Pidge isn’t, but sometimes Allura can’t help but think twenty three is still a child. 

She clutches the limp fingers tightly and refuses to cry. 

 

_ Lance _

**Now:**

He can’t ever remember being angrier in his life. 

No, that’s a lie, he can but it’s the time he doesn’t think of, the time where the smell of smoke and charred flesh was in the air all around him and not just emanating from Keith’s gear that the man had apparently neglected to change totally out of. He’d reeked of it, just now, in the hallway, of fire, heat-

“Lance,” Hunk says again, “What happened, dude?”

“Keith,” Lance snaps, “Is is a dick.”

“Well, yeah but,” Hunk shakes his head, his fingers sticky with batter, “What actually happened?”

“Why did you call me in here?” Lance asks shortly and Hunk raises his eyebrows. 

“Obviously so that you two didn’t kill each other. I don’t need anything, at least not til these waffles are done and you can be a taste tester. Talk, McClain.”

“He just,” Lance flops into a chair, “Does he ever think before he talks?”

It isn’t exactly what he wanted to say, but it comes out anyway. He’s still angry but there’s a bit of hurt worming its way in there too. He'd thought maybe he and Keith were getting past this whole 'not getting along' thing but every time he thinks that maybe he can stand the guy Keith goes and does something like this.

“No,” Hunk confirms, tossing his mixing spoon into the sink, “But is that what’s really bothering you?”

“It’s part of it,” Lance pulls a bit of the water out from the dripping faucet over to him. Hunk watches it travel across the expanse to the island and then in between Lance’s fingers as he begins to play with it, “He just says things that he thinks will be hurtful-”

“Or maybe they’re things that he’s been thinking for a long time,” Hunk says unhelpfully. 

“Well what he’s been thinking for a long time is hurtful,” Lance growls and Hunk holds up his hands in surrender. 

“I’m not disagreeing with that. Keith is just a little more inclined than the rest of us to speak his mind, is all. What’re you actually upset about?”

“Keith’s a fucking drug addict or whatever and everyone’s just acting like that’s okay!” Lance finally explodes. The water splashes to the table, “Shiro and Allura have been making excuses for him since I got here, and when I finally find out why, it’s for something like this? They need to stop babying him, he’s a grown ass adult!”

“No one’s babying Keith,” Hunk snorts and the water begins to bubble up off the table. 

“Not you too,” Lance groans and Hunk pours the batter into the refurbished waffle maker with a sizzle.

“Listen man, I don’t know what Shiro told you, but it sounds like there’s more to the story that you’re missing.”

“He told me that Keith takes a power suppressant to control his abilities and that it makes it difficult for him to use his power sometimes,” Lance drones in explanation and Hunk sighs. 

“See, Shiro wants to protect Keith’s privacy or whatever, which is cool, but it’s creating this situation,” Hunk turns toward him and frowns, leaning his back against the counter while the waffle cooks, “Keith was given that power suppressant when he was really little by the G.A.L.R.A. I don’t know the story behind it, but it’s been how he managed his ability since he was like four or something. He didn’t learn the basic techniques like you and I did.”

“So teach him now,” Lance grinds out between clenched teeth. He re-summons the water droplet, watching it rise and fall above the table instead of meeting Hunk’s steady gaze. 

“It’s not really that simple. He’s always on the drug, so it makes it hard for us to test limits,” Hunk looks like he wants to snatch the water out of the air, but doesn’t, fighting to maintain his stoic composure, “His abilities are… wild. He’s got a lot of power and no mastery over it so the longer he goes between doses the more volatile it gets. And stuff happens like when you first got here. That’s why we’ve got the dart gun. It’s not a normal response that he has, when he’s off of it. It’s not like you or I, where we just kind of lose control. Keith, the guy you were just having an argument with? He’s not in there anymore.”

“Where does he go?” Lance can’t help but ask and Hunk shrugs. 

“We’re not really sure, dude, we just try to avoid it best we can,” he shifts so that his back is to Lance as he lifts the top of the waffle maker and takes out a glorious… pastry? Are waffles pastries? “That’s just a few hours off schedule of when he’s supposed to take them. He moves things around to try to make it optimal for fighting but we try to keep that to as minimal as possible. Listen, all this that I’m telling you, I mainly got from accidentally eavesdropping on Shiro and Allura, alright, so some of this is pretty recent for me too.”

Lance doesn’t say anything, waiting for Hunk to continue as he pours another waffle, “All I know is that if he stopped taking it, if he went into withdrawal, his power starts to kill him. I don’t know how or why it happens, just that Allura suggested trying to wean him off it ‘again’ and Shiro insisting that it wasn’t a good idea because he almost died the two times they’d tried it before.”

“Why don’t they just decrease the dosage until he’s no longer taking it?” Lance sighs, because that story sucks it does, but it still doesn’t change how Lance feels about it, “Honestly, these are smart people. There are multiple ways of quitting something without abruptly ending it. There’s literally no excuse Hunk. Do you see what I mean? Someone could get hurt because he doesn’t have his power, or because he does and he doesn’t have control over it. People  _ have  _ died. All those people in the tower he torched, Pidge, sounds like he’s even hurt Shiro before. What if he hurts one of the girls? They can’t defend themselves, they don’t have powers Hunk. He’s a danger to everyone here and you’re all making excuses for him. And then when I try to confront him about it, he just… goes off. Fuckin punched me.”

Hunk hisses in a breath through his teeth, “Damn. Sorry man. Want a pack of peas?”

“Probably for the best,” Lance grunts. As if activated by the mention of it, his jaw begins to ache. 

“I see what you’re saying,” Hunk says slowly, trooping over to the fridge to grab the peas. He throws the pack to Lance and then makes a face at his waffle maker as it steams, “And I get why you’re frustrated. I mean, he is a danger to people and I agree with what you’re saying.”

“But…” Lance catches the peas, gently pressing it against his face with a wince. 

“It’s just a touchy subject alright? There’s more there than I know, and I’ve left it alone because of that,” A dent appears in Hunk’s forehead as he bites his lip, “I’ll back you if you want to talk to Shiro about it, but I’m just saying that there’s definitely more to it.”

“I can’t imagine it’s something that would warrant creating a freaking dart gun instead of dealing with it like a normal sane person would. Keith just doesn’t want to work on controlling his power and you all are letting him be lazy,” Lance growls, trying not to get all worked up again. His mami always told him that if his temper kept up like it had in high school he was going to give himself a stroke. 

“Maybe,” Hunk slides a plate to him, stacked with waffles, “Maybe.”

Lance rolls his eyes, “You’ll see. He’s going to get someone else hurt and you’ll see what I mean.”

Hunk’s eyes are dark, thoughtful as he watches Lance take a bite, but he doesn’t say anything. 

That’s good enough for Lance. 

 

**Now:**

Breakfast the next morning is awkward. Keith's there, with one of his hands wrapped up in thick bandages for some reason, but they both refuse to look at each other. When Lance needs the syrup he asks Shiro for it instead of Keith and he knows it's childish but every time he thinks of Charlie yelling “Big!” in that hospital room the first day after Lance was brought here, it makes his blood boil. They let her be around him even after he almost killed someone and he doesn't know why this didn't bother him so much before. Maybe because he'd assumed there was a good explanation behind it? But this… this isn't what he'd been expecting. 

Keith had hurt and killed people all because of a  problem he could fix-sure it wouldn't be easy, but people would be  _ safe.  _ Lance doesn't understand it. He would have done anything to keep his family safe,  _ anything  _ and would do anything to keep these new friends alive and well and happy and Keith's just willing to throw all that away. 

He stews all day. He talks to Hunk and trains with him and sits with Pidge for a while. She's still asleep, but she should wake soon Coran says. He tells her everyhing that's going on even though she can't hear him. Maybe  _ because  _ she can't hear him. 

He steadfastly avoids any room Keith is in and Keith must do the same because he doesn't see the man after breakfast, at least until Alluras voice pierces his daydream. It's one he has often these days, when he and Nyma were together and happy and it hurts but it's sort of bittersweet at this point. 

“Lance? We’re having a meeting in the command center. There’s a G.A.L.R.A. attack in progress and we’re going to put a team together to go handle it.”

He goes with her, only because he doesn’t want to disappoint her, or Shiro for that matter, but he almost leaves when he sees Keith there. He knew, logically, that Keith would be there, but the sight of him still leaves a bad taste in Lance’s mouth. He can’t say why he’s having such a strong reaction to this, to Keith except that he feels betrayed almost. When Nyma did something that wasn’t considered noble, that wasn’t  _ good  _ it didn’t bother Lance. Why? Because they weren’t pretending to be anything different. He and Nyma did shitty things to survive but Keith’s doing them to… what? Get high? It might be because he’s always acted like he’s better than everyone else, or maybe because everyone keep talking about how  _ powerful  _ the guy is supposed to be when he doesn’t even have control of himself or maybe it’s the hours Lance’s put into the training room trying to remaster his water abilities. Whatever it is, Lance is itching to leave, to get out there and kick some G.A.L.R.A. ass before he tries to kick Keith’s.

Allura fills them in on the information, but Lance is hardly listening. He gets the gist- the G.A.L.R.A. have located one of the hidden sanctuary towns and is currently keeping it under siege- but he can’t get out of his own head long enough to actually hear the words Allura is saying. 

“So, Lance, Keith, Hunk, Shiro and I will head to the site now and harass them until the supplies team can get in with the food.” Allura wraps up and at that, Lance immediately protests. 

“Someone needs to stay with Pidge to give her power if she needs it. Ke-”

“I’ll stay,” Shiro nods, his arms crossed over his chest, “I’ll be more good here, I think.”

“Shiro, no-” Keith blurts and Lance finds himself saying almost the exact same thing at the exact same time. Keith falls silent, his gaze resolutely on the table and plans in front of him as Lance continues, “Shiro, you’re basically our leader, we need you out there.”

“Allura will be there,” Shiro says firmly and Lance gets that ‘this is the end of the conversation’ feeling again, “You four will be fine. Suit up.”

Lance glances at Shiro and then at Keith and finally, to Allura, who just shrugs. 

This is going to be… rough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there is ever inconsistencies with anything in a new chapter, please let me know! Hope you enjoyed!


	14. Hunk & Pidge: Dream Team

**Hunk**   


The smoke is thick when they get there. The G.A.L.R.A. have already started fires, apparently, and it makes visibility near zero. Shiro isn’t there to spur in a stiff breeze, and so they’re stuck with it. Hunk wishes his suit had a looser collar so that he could pull it up over his nose and mouth, but he can’t, so he’s stuck with his hand instead, using it as an ineffective shield against the gritty air. His eyes sting and smart and he can’t stop blinking, he doesn’t know where the others are-

A strong hand lands on his shoulder and pulls him to the left. He stumbles a little but regains his balance, taking in a large gulp of clean oxygen when he’s finally free of the billowing smoke cloud. Keith lets go of his collar and rolls his shoulders, his eyes just a red rimmed and irritated as Hunk’s feel. 

“Whoa dude, how’d you-” Hunk begins and Keith’s mouth twists into something ugly. 

“I’ve been in a few fires,” Keith mutters, his gaze darting around the murkiness,  “I know how they work.” 

He darts back into the smoke and returns with Allura, and then Pidge and then just stands there like he’s waiting for Allura to give instructions. Hunk apparently seems to be the only one who notices that one of their team is missing. 

“Aren’t you going to get Lance?”

Keith sighs, rolls his eyes, gives Hunk a long look that Hunk steadily returns and then he stalks off into the smoke again. It takes a lot longer to return with Lance than it did the other two, and Hunk can hear them arguing well before he sees them. 

“Get your hands off me.”

“Do you want to die of smoke inhalation?”

“Might be better than being stuck with you,” a loud round of coughing, “I’m fine on my own!”

There’s more coughing, Hunk thinks from both of them, “God, why is nothing ever easy with you.”

“Because easy doesn’t mean right! Because easy means that sometimes other people get hurt! So I’m sorry that I’m not ‘easy’.”

“Good to know it takes more than a love song and some cheap wine to get you in bed,” Keith rasps in what might be the most scathing sarcasm that Hunk has heard him use in a while, “Shut up, you’re just going to inhale more smoke.”

“Maybe I don’t care,” Lance snaps back, but whatever he was going to say next is cut off by another coughing fit. 

They both burst into the clearing looking worse for wear. Lance’s gear is streaked with soot and Keith’s face has a fine layer of grime on it, but they’re both alive for now, glaring angrily at one another. 

“I apologize,” Allura wheezes, scrubbing her eyes with the backs of her hands, “I did not intend to drop us in the middle of the war zone.”

“It’s fine,” Keith says absently, scanning the area around them, “Fire’s are directly in front of us. I’m guessing that’s where the G.A.L.R.A. are too.”

“So what do we need to do?” Pidge asks, her hands on her hips.

“We’re attempting to distract a large enough number of them that the food supply train can get through,” Allura squints, “I’m afraid if they were in the smoke for too long it would render the bread inedible, but we could use it to our advantage.”

“So what’s the plan?” Keith asks and Lance of course, has an immediate retort. 

“You even going to be of any use? What’re you going to do, glare at the G.A.L.R.A.  until they beg for mercy?”

“Failing that,” Keith growls, “I’ve got a back up.” 

He slides his  _ kopis  _ blade from it’s sheath, hefting it once in his hand before he  turns back to Allura, “What’s the plan.” 

“I say we just attempt a bold attack. We don’t have to kill them all, just draw them toward us. Once we get them over here, we can lure them into the smoke and take them out. That should keep them occupied long enough for the caravan to get through and then we can make our escape.”

It sounds risky to Hunk but he isn’t exactly able to think of anything  _ better,  _ so they go with Allura’s idea. Hunk even gets to feel cool for a full thirty seconds- emerging from the smoke like the hero’s used to do on T.V., wearing his gear, two rocks at the ready to bash into the G.A.L.R.A.’s heads. And then they start shooting at him and it all goes downhill as he takes cover behind a massive bolder and sends a huge flurry of stone in their direction. 

They lose ground, bit by bit, but it’s purposeful, calculated. Lance is somewhere to his right, putting out fires and blasting G.A.L.R.A. soldiers alike and Pidge is on his other side, using vines and her modified electrical… grappling hook? To wreak havoc. Hunk can see, far far down the dirt path, that there’s a pack of smuggler’s racing through the smoke and debris, slipping inside one by one. 

He thinks this might work, that it might save the day, he hears it. Lance and Keith. Arguing. Again. 

“Get out of the way, Mullet!”

“I was here first!”

“What, is it kindergarten? If you’re not going to be any use in putting this fire out, then at least let me do it.”

“You can’t just drown the place, what if there’s people inside?”

“Oh,  _ now  _ you care about innocent lives?”

Hunk hurries toward their voices because they’re  _ loud  _ and they’re no doubt attracting the attention of all the enemies around them. He breaks into a run and then a sprint when he hears the sound of multiple gun shots. 

When he gets there, he sees Keith on the ground, his hand wrapped around his bicep. There’s generous amounts of blood leaking through his fingers and he’s got one knee pulled up, his back arched just slightly as he clenches his teeth and squeezes his eyes closed. Lance is standing over him, his hands outstretched, a wall of water around him as he wavers. Crimson trickles down down his calf, but it looks like it’s just a graze. 

Hunk’s still too far to aim precisely, he’s worried he’d just mess up Lance’s concentration and then they’ll both have more holes in them than they already do, but Hunk doesn’t end up having to do anything anyway. 

Lance says, “See what happens when you’re  _ useless?”  _ and Keith gives a wordless shout of frustration or pain or maybe both and a massive burst of flame extends from his body in a circle. It slides under Lance’s water shield and then flashes upward catching the pant legs of the G.A.L.R.A. soldiers on fire in an instantaneous motion. They all move back, screaming and patting at their clothing and Hunk sees his opportunity, ducking forward into the smoke. 

He grabs the back of Lance’s shirt and hoists Keith to his feet, yanking the both of them out of the circle as quickly as he can. After a second, they both get the hint, hurrying after him as he creates a path through the chaos with a single burst of rock through the crowd of G.A.L.R.A in front of them. 

“You two need to  _ stop fighting” _ Hunk bellows as soon as they’re somewhat clear. He still doesn’t know where Allura is, but he’s headed in the direction he last saw her. He doesn’t look behind him to see if Lance or Keith are following. 

“We could if Keith wasn’t such a… such a-” Lance shouts, clearly trying to come up with a suitable insult. 

“I was trying to help you!” Keith explodes. Hunk can’t see his face, but he can imagine it, “You were just wandering around! I know you don’t like fire but if you can’t handle yourself around it then you shouldn’t come on missions like-”

There’s a clack and a thud and Hunk turns to see Lance on top of Keith, his blue eyes narrowed. There’s soot on his face and arms and hands, hands that are landing a solid hit across Keith’s nose with a crack that makes Hunk wince. 

Cold fury slides into Hunk’s awareness. He doesn’t notice it at first, not til he’s moving and lifting Lance up by his collar and pushing Keith away when he springs to his feet ready for a counter attack. 

“You two are  _ ridiculous!”  _ He roars, one hand on each of their chests. There are G.A.L.R.A. coming, he can see their boots through the smoke, but he creates a wall of stone between himself and them with minimal effort, “We’re a team and you’re trying to kill each other!”

Keith’s got his head tilted back, his hand clutching at the bridge of his nose as it drips crimson down across his lips, his chin. He’s pacing, clenching and unclenching his other fist at his side. Hunk knows that if Keith hadn’t let him, hadn’t taken the hit, Lance never would have landed anything. For the life of him, Hunk can’t figure out why. 

“I don’t want to kill him,” Lance says, still poised and ready for a fight, “Just injure. Just a bit. Nothing serious.”

Keith shoots him a glare but doesn’t say anything. 

The smoke is starting to get thicker here, swirling through the air around them. The wind picks up, carrying embers dancing on the breeze. It makes Hunk wish Shiro is there instead of him to deal with this problem. 

“You both got  _ shot  _ because you couldn’t stand to work with one another. Do you understand how stupid that is? If you can’t work together, you’re going to get each other killed or one of us. That’s the dumbest fucking thing I’ve heard in my life.”

Neither of the other men speaks. They’re both looking at him now, instead of each other. 

“Lance, get over this stupid suppressant thing. You don’t know the whole story. You don’t have to like it, but it’s not your decision. If you don’t think you can handle it, you can leave the team, of course, but we’d all miss you and we need you buddy.”

Lance makes eye contact for a heartbeat, then two, but drops his gaze, a look of frustrated consternation taking over the anger that had been there before. 

“And Keith, you’re better than this, man.”

Keith stops pacing. He’s frozen in shock, staring at Hunk, but that doesn’t deter Hunk from continuing. 

“You’re upset, I get it, but you’ve been dealing with this way longer than Lance has been around and you shouldn’t let him get under your skin like this. Be upset, sure, but you  _ know better  _ than to get in a fight with your teammate in the middle of a battle. I shouldn’t even have to be telling you this shit. You’re an adult.”

Keith blinks, and then says in a thick voice, “I wasn’t trying to argue.”

Hunk believes that, but: “You still did anyway.”

Keith nods slowly, winces, then pulls his hand gingerly away from his nose. It’s already swelling, but it doesn’t necessarily look broken to Hunk. Which doesn’t mean anything, because Hunk’s never seen a broken nose before, but the bleeding looks like it’s already stopping. 

Keith moves forward stepping around Hunk to extend a hand in Lance’s direction. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lance frowns at the hand like it carries a pathogen, which, considering all the crimson and grit that cover Keith’s fingers, it might. 

“Trud-” Keith tries, then clears his throat and spits what appears to be mostly blood onto the ground, “Truce.”

Lance rolls his eyes, “Are we children?”

“The way you’re acting we might as well be,” Hunk crosses his arms over his chest, his armor scraping against each other. Lance sighs, then clasps Keith’s hand with his own. 

“Truce.”

 

**Pidge**

She returns to the world of the living. She hears things first, like Shiro talking and Eliza answering and Coran humming under his breath. It’s all things that remind her of home, that make her want to return to them, to those she loves. 

She surfaces and Shiro says something like, “Hey Pidgey, how you feeling?”

“Mmm,” she responds because while she’s not exhausted, she is tired, and it’s hard to form words. 

“I’ll take that as ‘okayish’” Coran chirps from her other side and then she feels a small hand on her cheek. 

“Auntie Pidge?” Charlie whispers, and the fingers push at her skin, “Auntie Pidge? You should wake up and play, it’s been a long time.”

Pidge opens her eyes with some effort. Charlie’s peering down at her, and Coran too. Shiro’s off to her right, although she can’t see him. She can sense him though, oddly enough. 

“Hi,” she croaks and Shiro leans forward to pull Charlie off her. 

“Hey little girl,” he pats her back gently as she protests, “Let’s give Aunt Pidge some room okay? She’s still not feeling up to playing.”

“But papa!” she begins to protest. She stops almost as soon as she starts, although Pidge can’t see why. 

Eliza takes Charlie’s place, her tiny hand clutching Pidge’s, “Hi Aunt Pidge! We missed you. Hunk made some really good waffles and I think he maybe saved some in the fridge for you but he told me not to eat them.”

“Did you eat them?” Pidge asks, one eyebrow raised. She manages to push herself into a sitting position with some help from Coran. 

“No,” Eliza answers, looking proud, “I wanted to but I didn’t.”

“Aren’t you just the best girl,” Coran pats her on the head as he passes behind her, “Why don’t you go with Shiro and see if you can warm some up for Aunt Pidge, hmmm?”

Shiro shoots Coran a look of confusion, but doesn’t argue as his daughter snags his hand and pulls him toward the kitchen. Charlie wanders after them, waving goodbye to Pidge as she reaches the doorway. Pidge waves back. 

“What happened?” Pidge immediately asks, as soon as she’s sure they’re out of earshot. 

“Shiro panicked in the compound and drew on more of your power than you could handle,” Coran supplies the information with no emotional inflection, “He thought he was protecting you. Allura got everyone back here and they sustained you with power until you were well enough to replenish it on your own. He feels awful about it, as I’m sure you could guess, but he’s not ready to talk about it if that’s what you were thinking.”

Coran may act like he’s just the crazy caretaker of this place, but he’s really more of the crazy uncle that looks out for his own. He knows them all better than any of them would have realized and she’s eternally grateful for this fact. 

“Got it,” she sighs, “Where are the others?”

She would have expected them to be there. As much as she wants to pretend like it doesn’t, it hurts that they’re not here. 

“They’re on a mission,” Coran snags her wrist off the bed, taking her pulse. He looks pleased by what he finds, and then reaches for the thermometer on the side table, “They should be back any minute. Keith and Lance had a bit of a… falling out. Not totally unexpected, I suppose, but I imagine it’s causing some issues.”

Pidge sighs, “I was hoping I’d be able to do some damage control. What was it about?”

Coran explains and Pidge really wishes she’d been awake because that sounds like it was brutal all around. No one wins when they’re at each other’s throats like this, but she doesn’t know if she can deal with both Lance and Keith as well as Shiro in the same afternoon. 

Shiro and the girls return by the time Coran’s finishing with her vitals and she stuffs her face. She doesn’t mean to, but she falls asleep again after she’s full, and wakes to the sound of Lance saying something to her in Spanish that she should probably know the meaning of, but she doesn’t. 

“Lance?”

“Hey, yeah it’s me. How’re you feeling?” he’s got his cold hand on her forehead and she leans into it. 

“A lot better.” 

She’s not lying. She feels refreshed, energized. Not exactly 100% but certainly not as bad as she had that morning. 

“Coran said you were free to get up and move around whenever you wanted. Hunk just finished dinner if you’re hungry. It’s pretty late though, so we’re not doing a team meal, just kind of a come in and grab whatever you want kind of thing.”

“Did you just get back from the mission?” the room is dark and it takes her eyes a minute to adjust. Lance’s eyes aren’t on hers when she can finally see his face. 

“Yeah, a bit ago. We managed to clear a path of G.A.L.R.A. soldiers for some rebels who were bringing in food to a Sanctuary town so that was pretty great. Mostly Hunk’s doing, you should tell him how much of a bad ass he is when you see him.”

“Anyone get hurt?” She scrapes her hair away from her forehead, pulling it into a ponytail that tickles the back of her neck. 

“Bullet grazed my leg,” he grimaces, “Nothing too bad. Allura sprained her wrist and uh. Um, Keith got zinged too, on the arm but he’s fine.”

It seems to pain Lance to say Keith’s name and Pidge wants to bash her head into the wall, but that’s more effort than these two idiots are worth. “Good, I’m glad it was nothing serious. I think I’m ready to get out of bed now, been in it way too long.”

“I hear that,” the corner of Lance’s mouth lifts and he holds out a hand to her, “Let me help you.”

They make it into the kitchen together. Everyone’s glad to see her up and around, Shiro especially. He apologizes to her once, quickly, in front of everyone and while they all tell him it wasn’t his fault he clearly doesn’t believe it. 

Keith’s missing but that’s nothing new. She is kind of upset that he isn’t there to see that she’s alright, but she tries not to let it get to her. 

At least until they’re halfway through their movie and the girls are put to bed and Coran’s nodding off in the easy chair and Keith’s  _ still  _ not there.

“Where’s the problem child?” she nudges Shiro gently from her spot next to him on the couch and he blinks. 

“Keith? Dunno. He had one hell of a shiner after the fight and said he was going to go ice it.”

“Has anyone checked on him recently?”

“No?” Shiro shrugs, but he looks a little worried, “He’s twenty six, he can take care of himself.”

Pidge snorts at that, makes it another twenty minutes before the boredom and anxiety begins to make her itch and then she excuses herself. She checks Keith’s bedroom, the training room, the pool, the training room again just to be sure, the girl’s room and then, finally, takes the ladder up to the roof. 

She sees him, silhouetted in the moonlight at the other end. He’s sitting on the ledge, leaning against the chimney, staring up at the sky. She sends Shiro a quick text-  _ K on roof -  _ then walks toward him, her footsteps purposefully loud on the gravel that covers the expanse between them. 

He turns to look at her once she gets close enough and she notices the fifth of something he’s got clutched loosely in his left hand. He salutes her with it, then turns back around, moving to make room for her when she sits next to him. Their feet dangle over the edge, her toes clad in socks, his in beat up black boots that she’s pretty sure belonged to Shiro at some point. 

“How ya doin Red?” she asks softly, letting her shoulder touch his just slightly, asking permission. He gives it. He wraps an arm around her torso and she leans her head against his collarbone and the anxiety settles. She catches a glimpse of the black eye and swollen cheek that she's sure are Lance's doing, but she resolves right then not to ask him about it unless he volunteers the information himself. 

“Wonderful,” he breathes. His exhale smells like whiskey, “I should be asking you that question.”

“You didn’t come check for yourself,” her tone is a little angry, accusing.

“Lance was there,” he says as if that’s an explanation. 

“So?”

“So, Lance was there,” he shrugs, and her head moves along with the motion. He’s not drunk, not yet, but his movements lack their usual finesse and his words are less guarded, less blunted, “He doesn’t want me around.”

“But I wanted you around. Isn’t that more important?”

“No.” Keith takes another drink, his Adams apple bobbing, “Should have been, but it wasn’t.”

She takes the bottle from him when he lowers it. He protests, just a little, but she takes a swig and hands it back to him, “What’s the deal with you two?”

“He… Look, we were partners in high school for a chemistry project. This was back when I couldn’t be friends with anyone and I did what I had to. I’m trying to make up for that now, but he won’t let me. It’s simple and understandable and it makes sense why he’s upset.”

There’s a lot there to upack - like the fact that there was a time when Keith couldn’t have friends, or that he’d purposely sabotaged relationships and that the way he’d said  _ simple  _ implies it’s anything but. 

He continues before she can comment, “And my power is the thing that killed his entire family, Pidge. Is it really that hard to figure out why he hates me?”

Something happened, something that Coran hadn’t told her about, “What do you mean? Did Lance say something to you about that? You weren’t there, you didn’t cause that-”

“It doesn’t matter Pidge,” Keith sounds mournful, staring at the label on the whiskey, “He doesn’t care. I try to get rid of it to make thing easier for everyone, but that’s not the right thing to do either and now Hunk’s fucking pissed too.”

“Keith-”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” he announces, “That’s why I’m up here by myself.”

She steals the bottle again, right when he lowers it from his lips and he shakes his head at her as she tries not to cough. She takes a bit longer handing it back to him this time and he notices. 

“You shouldn’t be drinking.”

“You’re not my mom.”

“Thank fuck,” Keith watches her take another swig with dark eyes, “I’d be a terrible parent.”

She wants to laugh, but something about the way he says it makes her pause, “I mean, you’re good with the girls.”

He raises an eyebrow, “I guess. Only because Shiro knew what he was doing raising them. I just kind of… help out. I’m not their dad.”

“I wasn’t implying you were,” she passes the bottle back and Keith takes it. His hand, with thick knuckles from being broken several times, wraps around the neck of the fifth and he gently clicks his thumbnail against the glass. He’s staring across the street at the hollowed out hardware store they’d long emptied years ago. There’s no electricity for blocks, but at the edge of this neighborhood there’s a small section of lights that glow in the night. It looks like a squiggly L from this angle. She can’t remember what G.A.L.R.A. sector those people belong to, but she’s oddly jealous. She can’t remember having been jealous before, of these people with no powers, nothing to fear from the G.A.L.R.A. She’s hated them, but never wanted to… to  _ be  _ them. 

There’s the shifting of gravel behind them as someone steps off the ladder. Without turning to see who it is, Keith shoots her a betrayed look and says, “You told Shiro where I was?”  She shrugs, but doesn’t get a chance to respond because he calls, “You’re not getting the whiskey from me.”

“Wasn’t going to try,” Shiro responds easily enough, “I would appreciate it if you came and sat with me on the couches though.”

Keith scoffs at that, slouching slightly as he keeps his gaze trained on those lights. His dark hair hangs across his forehead, his nose, the back of his neck, just barely brushing the collar of his black t-shirt. 

There’s a soft  _ poof  _ and a creak as Shiro presumably sits on one of the ratty old couches they keep up here for watching sunsets. There’s the familiar crack of a liquor bottle being opening and they both turn to see Shiro nursing a small bottle of… god damn, does this whole family drink whiskey? Why whiskey. It’s hardly the best hard liquor. Why does no one like the fruity drinks that Pidge used to have when civilization still existed?

“Cheers,” Keith says and raises his own bottle. He still doesn’t get up. 

They sit like that, Shiro on the couch behind them, Keith and Pidge on the ledge with their arms still touching. The night is still. None of the sirens that used to echo through these streets when they were still alive. None of the hum of electrical wire, no loud conversations, no chime of shady drug store doors that are open much later than is recommended.

There’s more gravel crunching and Keith’s eyes slide close. He doesn’t make a sound, just sags slightly, and she turns to see Lance’s tall form picking his way toward them with his head down. 

“Lance!” Shiro says, clearly surprised to see him, “How’d you know we’d be up here?”

“I… followed you,” he says, sounding nervous. He seems to realize he’s interrupted something, “I just wanted to make sure Pidge was okay, but I don’t want to interrupt-”

“Na, you’re fine. We’re just…” Shiro holds up his bottle as a way to finish that sentence, his shock of white hair catching a bit of moonlight to look almost inhuman, “Pidge, you alright?”

Shiro’s clearly trying to play damage control, but it’s not going over well, “Yeah I’m fine, thanks for checking Lance.”

Lance shoves his hands into his pockets, nods in her direction and heads back toward the stairs, only to be stopped by Hunk coming up. He’s holding something that looks like the G.A.L.R.A’s version of sprite and his little cocktail shaker and he’s grinning like a loon. 

“Who’s ready for a roof party??” he crows, but upon seeing Lance’s face and taking in the silence, he seems to realize he may have misread the scene, “Oh uh-”

“I am!” Allura calls from behind him, obviously still coming up the latter, “Shiro if you don’t get your ass over here and help me with this massive thing of vodka you and Matt  _ insisted  _ was practical I will just let it fall.” 

Shiro’s on his feet in an instant, hurrying over toward Allura and then from there it kind of devolves. Pidge is already a little tipsy when the rest of her family comes out onto the roof, but as soon as Allura’s up she insists that everyone have one of the ‘Altea Royal Creations’. This turns out to be just mostly vodka. The general consumption of this drink is apparently the stipulation Coran gave for agreeing to babysit the girls the rest of the night. By the time she finishes it, Lance is cracking jokes like he’s intended to be there the entire time, Shiro’s lounging on the couch telling Hunk an elaborate and ridiculous story about something Eliza did when she was three, Hunk’s dying of laughter on one of the stools, Keith’s folded in the cushioned wicker chair, staring up at the sky with that stupid bottle in his hand, Allura is still pouring drinks and Pidge feels a little wobbly. Not too wobbly. Just… a little. 

She does a shot with Lance, who dares her, and then Hunk’s pouring her something else that she  _ just has to try  _ and then she’s leaning against Keith’s leg telling him about how much she misses Matt and he’s nodding sagely because he misses Matt too and he just gets her sometimes and then she’s sitting on Shiro’s hands while he bench presses her and everyone is freaking out about it. She doesn’t fall, but Allura saves her anyway, pulling her back onto the couch with a heartfelt declaration of love and kinship that almost makes her weep. Someone starts to sing a song that was a  _ before  _ song, and she chimes in, though she kind of ruins the melody. She thinks it’s Lance who’s singing because whoever it is has a great voice but then they’re all mumbling the lyrics. They play beer pong only it’s with cups of water and they’re just basically drinking from the bottle at this point because none of them have the time or energy for actual beer. Where would they steal it from anyway?

Lance and Keith split off at some point and are talking against the chimney, their shoulders pressed against it and they’re pretty close to each other. She wonders if they’re going to fight again because she doesn’t think Shiro can split it up this time. He’s too busy counting the G.A.L.R.A. drones that dot the sky; he and Allura tallying them and arguing over whether the star was actually blinking or if it is just a star after all. 

She overhears Keith say, or well, slur at this point, “They’re my family too.”

“I can’t lose another one,” Lance sighs and it almost sounds like he’s about to cry, “That’s why I’m angry, I’m not… I like you I guess, or I could just… I love them.”

“Yeah,” Keith’s soft, his words lacking their usual edge. She thinks maybe she’s not supposed to hear this but she’s too drunk to care, “I love them too.”

“Well, maybe you’ll love me enough someday to realize that I’m right,” Lance says. Or at least that’s what Pidge thinks he says, Hunk’s trying to talk to her and it’s hard to concentrate on both things, “God you have really pretty eyes, ya know? Anyone ever tell you that?”

“Yeah,” Keith says, a bit louder than the rest of the conversation because Hunk’s started singing again, “There was this girl I dated and this guy in high school, at this party I went to once... Wait, what did you say before that? The thing about the eyes?”

"I'm right," Lance shrugs. “I think. I dunno. I’ve had a lot to drink dude.”

Pidge laughs because that’s funny. Hunk doesn’t get it so she explains it to him and he laughs to and then everyone’s in on it because they’re all a little or a lot drunk and this she thinks this is a brilliant, brilliant way to bond as a team. She can’t think of anything better actually. 

She ends up under the couch at some point, looking for the perfect rock to throw at the hardware sign to see if she can knock it down- whoever makes the least hits has to take the next shot and she’s already feeling queasy. She doesn’t really register any more conversations for a while except for Lance’s competitive banter and Shiro’s shouts of encouragement. 

The last thing she remembers is lying on her back, staring at the blank emptiness above her while the rest of the team spreads out around her and she hears Lance mumble, “Fuck Keith, we should be like… friends or something.” and Keith responding with “That's the best idea you've ever had dude."


	15. Coran: Coran, Coran the Gorgeous Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I just wanted to give a quick reassurance that despite Voltron ending, I will be finishing this fic as well as Blood Bleeds Red. Hope you enjoy!

**Now:**

He takes the ladder slowly, the lack of sound from the roof unsettling but not altogether unexpected. When he steps out onto the white stone and finds the paladins all sleeping in various awkward and uncomfortable positions on the rooftop furniture, he can’t help but smile. There are blankets over his shoulders, and he takes them now, lying them carefully over each of his wards, matching colors the best he can because what is he, a heathen? 

He places a blanket on Pidge, the one closest to him. She’s using one of the stool

pillows to curl up on, most of her body nestled among the stones. She’s grown, since Shiro’s disappearance, become more confident in her abilities. She’d only had six months with them as a coalition before Shiro was taken captive, but during that time she’d mostly stuck to herself.  Now that Shiro’s here, with them again, it’s like she can finally blossom and show that she’s just as valuable a member of the team as the rest of them. She’s small and intelligent but that doesn’t mean she can’t fight and Coran knows she’s not going to let them continue to treat her like the team baby anymore. 

Lance is sleeping atop the bar, on his back, his mouth open as he snores. He’s got cucumber slices over his eyes, possibly the vegetable that Allura had brought up for snacks. The girls wouldn’t touch it, and it was the last of the fresh produce they’d managed to purchase two weeks ago. She’d been trying to get rid of it and obviously she has. Lance stirs slightly, mumbling something in his sleep as Coran places a blanket under his head and another across his legs. Lance’s face, almost always twisted into a mischievous grin while he’s awake, looks calm, like he’s finally able to stop pretending while he’s asleep. There’s a long scar along his hairline that Coran has never thought to ask about, but can’t help but notice now as it reflects the moon’s glow with a silver shimmer. 

Shiro’s on the couch, sitting upright with his head tilted back. He still looks serious, even asleep, and his arms are folded over his chest. He starts when Coran puts the blanket into his lap, but marginally relaxes when he realizes who it is. Keith, who’s spread out on the couch next to him, shifts and stretches, but doesn’t wake as Shiro gently smooths his hair away from his forehead and gestures for Coran to hand him another blanket. Coran complies, and Shiro unfolds the felt square, carefully covering most of Keith as he shakes it out. The blanket covers part of Keith’s head and the man sighs, pulling it up over his eyes as he turns on his side. Shiro smiles fondly down at his brother and then up at Coran, mouthing ‘thank you’ as he slides into a more comfortable position, his eyes sliding closed once again. 

Hunk is sleeping with his feet kicked up on one side of the chair and his head resting on the other, his loud snores almost peaceful as they echo up toward the night sky. He’s grown too, much like Pidge has. He went from being terrified of the outside world to actively fighting as part of the resistance and its astonishing to think about. Coran wishes, not for the first time, that Shay could come to live with them. He knows she’s better off with her family, but the way that Hunk talks about her, the way his face lights up, makes Coran wish he could do more than just heal the paladins when they return.

Allura hair is stuck to her cheek as she sleeps slumped against the couch. She looks

older than she does awake, but he can remember her as a little girl, running to give him hugs whenever he walked into the door. She was a surly teenager too, always insisting that she knew what she was doing and always, always coming to Coran if she needed help and didn’t want to tell her parents. As an adult, he’d been worried about her finding her place, finding her family, but then she’d had Eliza and Coran realized that she had a family, even if it wasn’t conventional. Those girls are like his grandchildren, the ones he’d never get to have from his own son who died so many years ago. 

At that thought, he sighs, pulling the last blanket around his own shoulders as he moves to sit on the edge of the roof. It’s soothing up here. He can see why Keith spends so much of his free time watching the stars, away from everyone. It’s nice, once in a while. 

Coran wasn’t born into this world of chaos and confusion like his kids were. Shiro

and Allura got a taste of that freedom, of what the world was like without the G.A.L.R.A. but it wasn’t enough to know. Not truly. They always had the threat of bad press or increasing government regulations, even before the G.A.L.R.A. were around. 

Coran was not the first mutant in his family. But he was the second. His grandfather, the first, had been a legend, a hero worthy of the name Smythe. Coran, however, was not destined to be his grandfather. 

He’d been trained, just like everyone else had when they were younger. Went to

school with all sorts of mutants who could do all sorts of wild things and became best friends with Alfor, Allura’s father. They had many grand adventures, the two of them and Alfor’s group of loyal companions. And Alfor’s closest friend had been Zarkon. 

They were so close, in fact, that in high school when Alfor met Allura’s mother, Melenor, he introduced Zarkon to her sister, Honerva. And later, Alfor was Zarkon’s best man, just as Zarkon was his. Coran didn’t mind not being Alfor’s first pick. Really, he didn’t. Coran was too busy with his own family, his own life, and for a time they drifted apart. They remained close friends, however, despite their differing friend groups and clearly different life paths. But then, Zarkon and Alfor were also on differing paths, paths that caused many more problems than Coran ever anticipated. 

Alfor became king of the heroes. Zarkon did not. 

Alfor had a wonderful, healthy daughter. Zarkon had a son, who was born with health complications and difficulties that while fixable with modern medicine and mutant abilities, were extremely expensive to cure. 

Alfor and his wife remained happily married and in love. Zarkon divorced Honerva when their son was only five years old, and Honerva passed away not long after. 

Alfor hired Coran to assist with his hero work, and to act as an advisor and caretaker for his young daughter. Zarkon began to blame the heroes for his situation, and soon after Coran’s hire, joined the G.A.L.R.A. 

They had been around for years, with no real traction. No one paid them any attention. They had few members, a single page on the internet, and no real influence anywhere. 

At least, until Zarkon. When he joined, it was all the influence and motivation they needed. They got interviews, meetings with Alfor, began to get everything they wanted put into action. 

And well, everyone knows how that ended up. With the world half destroyed,

towns reduced to rubble and ash, families and homes destroyed. 

Coran’s family had been taken from him before all this, the G.A.L.R.A. and Zarkon and Lotor taking an active role in his father’s work. Coran had been happy with his son and his wife, his little family. This was before he’d come to work for Alfor, before he knew Allura well, or had any business in the hero work. He’d met with Alfor for lunch that day, just to talk as old friends. Alfor was supposed to return with him back to his home and pick up some novels that he’d lent Coran, but instead Melenor called saying Allura was sick. Alfor had left early. 

Coran returned home at the time he was supposed to, alone. And when he did, after he’d parked in the garage and gone up front for the newspaper, his home was shot in a drive by. 

Alfor later determined that someone likely thought Coran was walking out front with Alfor, walking him out of the house and into an open area, but that didn’t really matter to Coran. They had no idea who had done it. No idea who had destroyed his home, killed his wife and his ten year old son, and put Coran in the hospital with a gunshot to the shoulder and chest. 

Coran lost his family just like Zarkon believed he lost his. Except Coran didn’t become a megalomaniac of a villain. He’d done what he could to help Alfor find the killers, and when that went nowhere, he’d accepted Alfor’s offer to join his household. And he’d lived a quiet, peaceful life then, until the G.A.L.R.A. really turned everything to shit and killed part of his family a second time. 

That’s why he helps with the coalitions, why he’d done all he could when Alfor

started his resistance and now, when Allura is running hers. Voltron is important. It’s important to the world, to keeping it safe and returning it back to something that makes sense. It’s important to him. 

These kids, these crazy crazy kids, have to put up with so much. 

So if he can give them a night off to get drunk and let loose a little, he will. 

It’s not much of a burden to watch Eliza and Charlie anyway. They’re as much his

to take care of as they are Allura’s.  

He glances back at them, one more time, then heads inside to make sure the girls are actually asleep. If anything happens to them, to any of them, he honestly isn't sure what he'd do. 

 

**Now:**

“Oui,” Coran calls as Lance stumbles into the kitchen, “Wipe off your shoes!”

“Sorry Coran,” Lance grumbles and weaves back toward the front entrance where the rest of the team is stripping out of various wet weather gear clothing. They’d been out on a mission rescuing part of a town that was being overtaken by mudslides, helping to evacuate the citizens and prevent as many damages as they could. Their name was being spread further around the countryside again- rumors of Voltron and the powerful mutants that belonged to the group were beginning to take hold. Allura made sure to leave communication devices in safe havens they found, little encrypted walkie-talkies that Pidge developed to keep them all linked to one another. 

It’s been nearly three weeks since Keith and Lance had their major fight, and apparently made up. There’s been minimal problems between the team since then. Sure, the two of them aren’t exactly close, but there is friendly banter every once in a while. Everyone avoids the subject of power suppressants like the plague, but as long as they aren’t brought up in conversation, everything goes smoothly. 

“Ugh, Keith quit shaking out your disgusting mullet on the rest of us fashion sensible people!” Lance complains. 

Okay, so not smoothly per say, but tolerably, at least. 

“You’re calling Pidge fashion sensible,” Keith’s voice echoes to Coran and then Pidge’s high pitched protest and Shiro’s calm, even-toned request for quiet. 

They all listen, entering the kitchen with pleased expressions and damp clothing. Coran’s reheating the lasagna that Hunk made two days ago, since no one will eat his cooking anymore (how rude) but he’d seen the conclusion of the rescue from his monitors. It had gone well, and they all deserved to look as proud as they did. 

“Nice job out there Hunk,” Coran praises, twirling the end of his moustache, “Dare I say you did most of the heavy lifting today?”

“Excuse me!” Lance cuts in, raising one eyebrow, “I stopped the rain for a while! And Shiro got rid of the storm!”

They all dissolve into light bickering about who contributed more to the mission. It’s nice, having a kitchen full of people again, people who he cares for, who care for him and he leans against the counter and watches it all. 

“Coran, thanks for all your support,” Pidge says, offering a nod in his direction, “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

He doesn’t know how to respond, so he stays silent. The rest of the team scarfs down lunch, talking and laughing. The girls come in from where he’d left them playing in the living room, hugging both their father and Allura. Charlie climbs onto Shiro’s lap, relating exactly what she’d been learning from Coran in their lessons.

He’s been teaching the girls since the fall of normal society- it wouldn’t be safe for them to attend a G.A.L.R.A. school, but they need to learn how to read and write. He’d tutored Allura, so when she’d asked him to help with her daughters, he’d gladly agreed, He enjoys it, those few hours every day they have time, goofing off with the kids and imparting whatever wisdom he feels he can. By his reckoning, Eliza’s ahead in her lessons and while Charlie isn’t excelling as much with her schoolwork, she’s fascinated by history and their physical training. 

They eat and then Shiro goes through the debriefing. Coran offers some pointers on teamwork, the rest of the team goes over what went wrong and what went well. It’s standard at this point and this meeting is rather short. Things have been going excellent- they’ve encountered few difficulties on their missions, and most of their targets have been far from G.A.L.R.A. rich areas. 

They’re avoiding drawing out any of the G.A.L.R.A’s main leaders- Sendak, Ranveig, Lotor or the worse, and they manage to be successful for the next few weeks as well. They take over small towns, freeing prisoners at work camps and Coran’s proud of their work. They function well as a team, and they fall into an easy rhythm, a schedule and routine that work well for them. 

They get up, eat together, go over what has to be done for the day. Usually there’s information to sift through, distress beacons sent, training to be completed. They carry out whatever tasks need to be done, and whenever there’s time they practice forming Voltron. It’s slow going, mostly consisting of energy sharing until they’ve begun to master that. Allura wants to go further, to push their power, but Shiro refuses, preferring to move forward with caution. Coran has to agree. The thought of them drawing that much power from Pidge again has him breaking out in hives nearly every time they practice. 

 

**Now:**

The team is heading toward one of the slave factories that the G.A.L.R.A. are monitoring in the next state. Using Allura’s power, they can get there in minutes, travelling through the Astral Plane, and right when he expects, the cameras in their helmets come back online. He’s hacked into the cameras of the facility as well, and he can’t help the grin that spreads across his face when he sees Pidge step into view by the front door. 

“There are a group of four G.A.L.R.A. soldiers just around the corner to your right once you get through the door,” Coran informs them, his eyes darting from screen to screen, “Make sure you’re ready for them and don’t let them raise the alarm.”

“Copy,” Pidge responds and then Shiro blasts the doors open. They make it in easily enough, dispatching the four soldiers with no issues. There’s another group, two sentries, that Coran warns them about and Hunk encases them in a mass of stone that neither will be able to escape from. 

They make it to the main floor of the factory. The slaves are panicked, swarming into the corners of the room as far from the paladins as they can get. Lance and Shiro are doing their best to keep them calm and get them to move out in an orderly fashion, but no one is really listening and there’s another massive group of sentries mobilizing from the break room. 

They burst through the doors into the main floor with a clank of metal and the slaves begin screaming in earnest, terror in their faces broadcast across each of the screens. The fight explodes across machines and factory lines. Chairs tip, Keith dances up onto one of the stools and then a table, knocking wrenches and papers all over the floor. He parries and strikes at two of the G.A.L.R.A. that come at him with weapons in clear need of charging. They use the blunt ends of the weapons to slash at Keith’s legs, his knees, and one of them clambours up onto the assembly line after him. 

Shiro’s backed up against one of the walls, but he’s using both his metal arm and his wind power to keep the soldiers at bay, forcing other opponents back so that he can fight one at a time. Lance covers several of the sentries feet in ice, immobilizing them while he sends blasts of water at each of their guns to knock them out of their hands. Pidge wraps the G.A.L.R.A. in vines, tearing at their armor and stabbing holes through any body part she can get ahold of. Hunk shoots rapid fire stones at the soldiers until they fall back, overwhelmed by his barrage of sharp rocks that split skin and render several opponents unconscious. Allura’s still attempting to lead the slaves out of the facility, but they aren’t listening to her, too trapped in fear to move. 

Everything’s going rather decently, all things considered, when one of the machines explodes as one of Keith’s thrown knives burrows into something that should not be split. Flames scatter across the floor, the walls, catching a stack of uniforms on fire and then the wooden stools and then it’s flashing across the floor, quickly becoming an inferno. 

“Keith!” Hunk, who’s closest to the blaze, shouts, “Do something!”

“I can’t!” Keith shouts back into his mic and Coran frowns. 

“Can’t you at least try?” he says, and there’s a sound of disgust. 

“I already have!” Keith growls. 

“Keep trying! The fire is trapping the other half of the slaves!” Allura yells and Coran realizes that she’s right. The fire is spreading across the room- the half with the slaves is being quickly cut off from the paladins. 

“You have to do something!” Lance bellows, directing all his attention to the flames, water from the pipes around the room bursting toward his outsretched hands. He tries to douse the fire, tries to get it back under control but it’s beyond help, beginning to lick at the ceiling as it climbs up the walls, “Keith!”

“I can’t!” Keith roars, his palms open in the direction of the fire, but whatever he’s trying to do is obviously not working. The fire eats away at several of the machines and there are more explosions, rocking the facility. 

“You guys need to get out of there!” Coran instructs, his tone chrisp and to the point, “Get what slaves out that you can, but if you don’t leave, you’ll just end up dead too!”

Allura leaves first, leading the few slaves who are on the side of the exit to freedom. Hunk goes next, followed by Pidge and they’re both doing everything they can to get rid of the smoke and flames, but there’s something… unnatural about it.  It’s burning too quickly and too hotly and Coran prays that the slaves will be able to escape out another way. 

Keith’s struggling, trying to get through a blazing assembly line. He takes a huge leap and rolls to the exit, gesturing for Lance and Shiro to follow him. Shiro moves toward his brother, but Lance doesn’t follow, still trying to put out the fire. 

Shiro grabs him, pulling him toward the exit, despite Lance fighting him, despite Lance swearing and struggling and screaming. He’s trying to get back to the desperate people on the other side of the flames, yelling for them to run, to get out of there, but there’s a lot of confusion and smoke and chaos and Coran loses visual. He doesn’t know what’s happening to the slaves, to the paladins, for a long, breathless moment. 

“Uncle Coran!” One of the girls shrieks and he’s reminded that he has other responsibilities, that he can’t just sit here at the monitor now that the paladins probably don’t need him but he can’t move, waiting for them to sound off. He can hear Allura coughing and he thanks whatever gods are out there, and then Shiro’s voice crackles through his mic. 

“Is everyone alright?”

“I’m fine,” Allura wheezes, and Hunk echoes the sentiment. 

“Mostly,” Pidge grunts.

“Yes, sir,” Keith croaks. 

“I’ve got Lance,” Shiro says. It should be an innocuous comment, off hand, reassuring, but it’s not. Coran’s heart beats much too rapidly in his chest, and he regrets, not for the first time, ever getting the water elemental involved in this whole mess. 

The ride back to Arus is silent. Coran checks several times to see if the mics are still functioning. They are. No one speaks. Their breathing is quiet, slow, measured. 

Coran worries. 

He keeps the girls occupied until there’s the telltale wash of power that means the team is exiting the Astral Plane. He resists the urge to greet them, letting them have a moment to themselves while he gives the girls two spelling worksheets each and helps them through them slowly.

It’s only when he hears Keith’s soft, “Lance, I’m sorry. Say  _ something _ .” that he knows he might be needed with the rest of the team. He kisses each of the girls on the top of the head, smiling at their giggles and protests, and then he joins the other six. 

When he steps into the hall, everyone is tense, ready. They’re forming a half circle with Keith and Lance at the center, both of them facing each other. Lance is silent, furiously so, his hands balled into fists and his face white with rage and something else. Fear? Keith looks nervous, guilty, maybe, both his head and his voice low. 

“Keith,” Shiro says in that gentle tone of his, like he’s talking to a wild animal that might turn and bite him just as soon as greet him, “Why don’t we give Lance some space.”

“No,” Keith seems bewildered by this statement, by the idea that Shiro would even suggest that, “He… he needs to know that I tried, I-”

“Keith,” Lance says his name like it’s the heaviest weight in the world, like the single syllable takes all his energy to utter, “Just shut up.”

And then he leaves the room. 

Everyone stares after him. Hunk shifts on his feet, glances at Shiro and then Pidge and finally trots after Lance, his arms crossed over his chest and his footsteps slow. Pidge goes next, her small hands tucked into her pockets, her expression both distraught and contemplative. 

“Where are the girls?” Allura asks Coran, her eyes deep pools of sadness and Coran points behind him. She stalks past him with purpose, her white hair flowing freely behind her. He wonders when her hair tie snapped and then realizes that doesn’t really matter. 

Keith’s hands are pressed against the counter and it looks like they’re supporting his weight, the muscles in his shoulders and back shifting and adjusting according to the angle at which he wavers. He’s not wearing his armor and Coran hopes that it’s in the humvee rather than somewhere outside a G.A.L.R.A. occupied facility. 

Shiro approaches slowly, his expression twisted in sadness, grief, “Keith, this isn’t-”

One of Keith’s knees gives out. He catches himself on the table, the stumble so smooth it almost appears to be on purpose, but his hair falls in front of his face and it’s only once Coran can’t see his expression that he notices the harsh sound of breath being forced through clenched teeth. 

Shiro grabs Keith’s arm and deftly forces him into a chair. He lets Keith put his head into his hands, carefully pulling Keith’s hair away from his face like Keith’s one of his daughters instead of a full grown twenty six year old man who seems to be going into shock. 

“Can… Can I do anything?” Coran, finally finding his voice, speaks up from the doorway.

Shiro seems to notice his presence for the first time, “Oh. Coran, yeah, if you want, he’s got a chunk taken out of his left calf. Hunk turned his ankle at some point and Pidge might have a couple bruised ribs, if you want to take care of those.”

“Sure,” Coran says smoothly, carefully maneuvering over to Keith’s other side as Shiro moves to give him room. Keith jumps when Coran puts his hand on his shoulder, but doesn’t say anything. 

He takes his time to heal the wound. It’s not serious, but he isn’t sure how a reduction in stamina will mix with whatever else is going on with Keith.

“It’s not your fault,” Shiro tries again, after a moment of silence, “The fire spread too quickly.”

“I could have stopped it,” Keith’s voice is distorted, his words trapped within his palms, “You know I could have. I’m not taking them anymore. I’m done.”

Shiro’s expression shifts to surprise, worry, and then resignation, “You know you can’t be.”

Keith lifts his head, his cheeks red and splotchy. Some of the hair that Shiro missed with his makeshift knot falls across Keith’s forehead. His teeth are bared, lips thin lines as he snarls, “I don’t care, Shiro, I don’t. I’m done. I’m not taking them anymore. I’m  _ done.” _

Fear, real fear, trickles into Shiro’s dark eyes, “Keith, you can’t mean that.”

Keith doesn’t answer, just glares at his brother as if to say “you wanna bet?”

“You’ll die,” Shiro says urgently, leaning forward as if that will make his words penetrate Keith’s brain, “You will  _ die _ , and then who will save anyone?”

“You don’t know that I’ll-”

“We have pretty good evidence that you will,” Shiro snaps scathingly, and it’s such a total reversal from his behavior two seconds ago that Coran thinks he might have whiplash. “If you die, we can’t form Voltron. And if we can’t form Voltron, then countless more people will perish in fires just like that one that the G.A.L.R.A. set. We need to beat them Keith, and that means that we need you, whole, alive and healthy.”

“We can at least try!” Keith’s words burst from him like he’s been holding them in for far too long. He gestures with both hands and Coran nearly loses his grip, “We haven’t tried since high school Shiro. We don’t know what’ll be different this time!”

“We do know that you take much more now than you did then,” Shiro counterattacks, his words razor sharp, “We know that you can’t tolerate doses any lower than what we have you on right now. You really want to mess that all up after we’ve finally got a balance?” 

“It’s not a balance Shiro,” Keith no longer sounds angry. He slumps forward, his shoulders rounding, his hands flopping into his lap, “I never know if I’m going to be useful or if I’m going to blow up at someone the second I get angry or if I’ll be absolutely worthless and I just want it to be over.”

Shiro’s migrated back to barely concealed panic and Coran wonders if he should really be here right now. This moment seems private, intimate, and he thinks he should leave except Shiro is clearly including him on this. He invited him in, made room for him and Coran knows for a fact that Keith wouldn’t be saying any of these things if he didn’t trust Coran not to repeat them, not to judge him for them. 

“You’re not worthless,” Shiro shifts so that he’s at least partially in Keith’s field of vision, “You’re never worthless. Keith, I just… I know you don’t want to take them, and I know you’d be happier if you could live without them, but there’s such a large chance that you won’t make it to experience that life and I know it’s selfish but-”

He takes a large shaky breath and now it’s Keith’s turn to look concerned, “Shiro-”

“I have lost a lot of people,” Shiro barrels on, ignoring the way that Keith’s eyes close in sadness or resignation Coran isn’t sure, “I know you have to, and I know that we both struggle with that, so I need you to understand when I say I  _ can’t lose you too.” _

“I know,” Keith whispers, falling against the back of the chair, “I know.”

“Please, Keith,” Shiro uses his prosthetic hand to grip his brother’s other shoulder, “Please promise me that you won’t do this. We’ll find another way for you to get your power back, but please please don’t put yourself at risk like this. Promise me.”

Keith opens his eyes, the dark blue iris’ unreadable before they turned toward Shiro and Coran can no longer see them. It’s quiet for a heartbeat, two, while Shiro searches his brother’s face. 

Finally, Keith inhales and murmurs, “I promise.”


	16. Lance: Promises, Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are several mentions of vomiting in this chapter, sorry if that bothers anyone!

**Now:**

He hasn’t left his room in three days. 

Not since their last mission, when he’d watched those innocent people caught up

in the fire, not since he realized that they were likely trapped there. That they would likely die there. 

The faces of his family swirl through his brain over and over, Luis, Veronica, Marco, his parents. His nephew, their puppy, the fires that took them all away from him. 

He closes his eyes, but it just seems to make things worse. He can smell the smoke, the charred flesh and-

He doubles over and vomits, catching himself with one hand on the stack of heavy crates and plastic that make up his shower. He’s been spending most of his time in there, in the water. He knows he’s wasting it, that it’s a precious commodity these days, but the part of him that cares is no longer present. 

The stream from the shower head takes care of the mess for him. He watches it swirl and disappear down the drain, wishing that he could follow it, escape from this place. He would hate to leave Hunk, and Pidge, and Allura and Shiro and Coran and the girls, but maybe being alone was better for him. Maybe he wouldn’t feel like this if he were alone. 

Hunk had tried to talk to him. Pidge too. Then Allura. Shiro and Coran came together. Hunk came again, and Shiro too, but he’d never answered any of their questions. He didn’t even let them in his room. Not that he could have stopped them if they’d wanted to push the curtain aside, but he’s appreciative of the fact that none of them tried. 

He crawls back to his bed, dressed now in only boxers. He lets himself wallow, lets himself feel bad for himself, about himself, lets himself drop off the ledge of self-hatred and hatred directed toward others and then he takes all those feelings, balls them up and pretends they’re a balloon. He sees them, in his mind, bubbling up from his chest, hitting the open air and floating away, leaving him feeling marginally better. 

The next time someone knocks, he thinks, he might actually answer it. 

It’s coincidence, fate, maybe, that someone happens to tap at the plastic covering the entrance to his room no more than twenty minutes after that. He stretches, stands, and wobbles over to the entrance, exhausted, but ready to face whoever is standing out there. 

He pulls aside the curtain, and immediately shuts it again. 

He lied. He’s not ready. He’s not sure when he’ll ever be ready again, but it’s certainly not now. The anger is back, the balloon in his chest now filling to press against his rib cage, his lungs, stealing his air. 

“Lance?” Keith’s voice comes from behind the door. Keith knocks again. It’s almost funny, but Lance doesn’t laugh, “Lance, please, you’re the only one who can help me.”

It’s the tone that gets him. That plaintive, almost begging sort of tone that makes him question why he dislikes the man. God, he hates that tone. 

Lance stomps forward and rips the curtain aside, “What.”

“Don’t close the curtain,” Keith’s leaning against the wooden crate, one hand outstretched, the other tucked into the pocket of his sweatpants. 

“Why shouldn’t I,” Lance challenges, his fingers still wrapped in the plastic.  _ This is a distraction,  _ his mind supplies,  _ you need this.  _

“Because I’m doing what you want,” the words burst from Keith. Hes rushing, trying to explain within an unknown time limit he seems to sense Lance will enforce, “I'm… I stopped taking the power suppressants and I think I might need your help.”

“You... _ what?”  _ Lance exclaims and quickly grabs Keith's noticeably shaking hand, dragging him into Lance's room. “Fuck dude, I didn't mean all at once!”

He has a lot of anger toward Keith, it's true, but the more time they spend together the more he realizes that he can't hate him. Even after what happened three days ago. Maybe because of it? The guy’s an asshole and he's selfish and cocky but he also  _ tries _ , so hard sometimes, to be what others want him to be, need him to be, and that's something Lance oddly identifies with. And seeing Keith, pale and sweaty with tremors quaking from his elbows to his fingertips Lance feels a bit of that anger slip away. There's still some there--you don't get rid of years of strong emotion in a single moment, but it's fading to the background as concern takes its place. 

Keith stands awkwardly in the center of Lances room, his hands balled into fists to try to hide the shaking. Lance can  _ see _ the heat radiating off him, shimmering waves that remind him of sand baking under the desert sun. He doesn't know what to do and doesn't particularly want to do  _ anything,  _ but he also knows that this is what he wanted. Kind of. 

“Are you okay?” Lance asks, despite knowing the answer to his own question, “When was the last time you took one?”

Keith swallows convulsively, looking a little green, “Last night.”

Lance doesn't know what time it is now, but he knows it's not morning, “How many doses have you missed?”

“Two,” Keith's got this squinty look that might be mistaken for annoyance but Lance thinks might be pain, “Look can I sit down?”

Lance gestures to his bed, “By all means, take over my space.”

He regrets the comment when there's no snappy comeback, when Keith just collapses onto the bed. He raises one hand to press at his temple, kneading the skin there with long fingers, the knuckles misshapen on two of them where Lance assumes they were broken. 

Lance sits heavily next to him and let's his knee tap Keith's. It's a gesture of friendship he's not really certain he means at this point, but it makes Keith look at him all the same, “So what does this look like and how am I supposed to be helping you.”

_ Why do you want  _ me  _ to help you _ , is the unspoken question that hangs between them, but Lance doesn't acknowledge it.

Keith settles at the edge of Lance’s bed, his elbows on his knees. He’s looking at Lance from behind a waterfall of that stupid mullet that Lance knows isn’t  _ actually  _ a mullet anymore but he can’t help but call it that. It’s long, long enough to easily be held back by a ponytail and it’s only gotten shaggier since Lance has known him. He doesn’t know why that thought flits through his head as Keith takes a deep breath, but he has to stifle the urge to brush Keith’s stupid hair behind his ear so that he can get a full glimpse of those eyes. 

_ What the fuck is wrong with you,  _ he has just enough time to think before Keith begins speaking. 

“At first it’s just pretty basic stuff, shaky hands, headache, nausea and all that,” Keith shrugs and Lance can feel one of his eyebrows raising, “It gets worse the longer I go without it. That’s what Shiro wants to avoid, but they’re caused by high body temp. You can make ice, right? So, I was thinking, what if you kept me cool and then there’s a higher chance this turns out alright.”

“Jesus Christ,” Lance can see the logic, he gets it, but this sounds like it’s way out of his league, “What’s the worse stuff?”

Keith hesitates and Lance frowns, “Hey man, if I’m going to agree to help you, I need to know what I’m getting myself into.”

There’s a sigh and then Keith scratches his nose, his chin and finally, “Just really high fever. Uh, that comes with hallucinations, seizures sometimes I guess. I don’t know. I don’t really remember any of that, but Shiro told me it happened.”

_ “Jesus Christ,”  _ Lance shakes his head, lurching to his feet in an awkward motion, “Dude, you need to tell Shiro. I am  _ not  _ going to deal with that on my own.”

He hasn't even talked to Keith alone in… like ever. How is he supposed to deal with  _ this _ ?

Keith’s face is pale and wane, but anger sparks some life back into his eyes, “You can’t tell him. He’ll just make me take the suppressants again and that can’t happen.”

“If you have a god damn  _ seizure-” _

“It won’t come to that,” Keith snaps, “You can keep my body temperature regulated, and it’ll just be like the flu for a few days and then you’ll get your wish. I won’t be on the power suppressants anymore, no one will be at risk and I can help the team. It’s a win win.”

“A few days?” Lance scrubs his hands through his hair, pacing, “And I can’t tell Shiro. Or the rest of the team.”

“No,” Keith insists, “You can’t.”

Lance lets out a long breath, stilling. His heart is still beating much too fast and he’s sweating but he knows what he’s going to say and he can’t believe himself, “Fine. I won’t tell Shiro, but there’s two conditions.”

“What are they?” Keith asks dully, back to resting his forehead in one of his palms.

“One, I get to tell Shiro if I feel like your life is in significant danger. Two, you’re going to answer my questions. Comprende?” 

Lance’s arms are crossed over his chest as he stares down at Keith. He’s got his feet planted in anticipation of an argument from the man in front of him, but he gets none. 

Keith glances up and something in Lance’s chest twinges, “Fine.”

 

**Now:**

It’s been two hours. No significant progress had been made on the question front, but Keith had insisted he would tell Lance whatever he wanted to know “after I get a nap.”

And Keith, withdrawn, socially reclusive Keith, passed out on Lance’s bed like this was where he belonged. 

It’s awkward, at first. Lance gets a cup of water for Keith whenever he wakes up and then debated for a full twenty minutes about where to sit. The bed is only a twin, it’s not big enough for the both of them, but Lance doesn’t want to just sit on his floor. He eventually settles for leaning his back against the mattress and reading one of the books Hunk left for him while he waits. 

Finally, Keith stirs. He’s on top of Lance’s blankets, not underneath them, and his shirt has rucked up around his stomach, revealing smooth skin, a flash of abdominal muscles and a thin line of hair that disappears into the waistband of his sweats. 

Lance steadfastly trains his attention on Keith’s sleepy expression. He blames the heat in his cheeks on the fact that this is the closest he’s been to Keith in weeks, maybe ever. There’s nothing wrong with admiring another man’s form. When he’s not aware. While he’s sleeping in your bed. 

Keith’s tired eyes shift to discomfort and then squeeze shut. He grunts and Lance turns, facing his bed on his knees, “Hey man, you good?”

Keith shifts, holds up a finger, and then flips to his back, one hand wrapped tightly around his stomach. Sweat beads on his brow and while he watches, one droplet worms its way from his temple into his hairline. 

“If you’re going to hurl, give me some warning,” Lance drawls, trying his best to sound nonchalant. He knows from experience at parties how embarrassing it can be to throw up in front of someone else, especially someone you don’t know well, but Keith is putting enough trust in Lance to be vulnerable and Lance isn’t going to disrespect that. He may have his issues with Keith, but the guy is trying to do the right thing and Lance isn’t a bad guy. He isn’t. Not really. 

Keith shakes his head  _ no  _ but Lance isn’t really sure what that means so he pushes himself to his feet and tries not to sprint into the kitchen. He doesn’t encounter anyone along the way, thankfully, and he manages to grab a large salad bowl and return to his room without incident. When he gets back inside his space, Keith’s sitting up, his feet hanging off Lance’s bed, one hand on his forehead and the other still wrapped firmly around his stomach. 

“Here,” Lance says, a little out of breath. Keith takes the bowl without a word, his hands shaking so badly Lance isn’t sure he’ll be able to keep his grip on it. 

He does, resting it against his knees. It’s quiet for a moment, and Lance sits next to Keith on the bed, wondering if he should say something. He opens his mouth to speak, to comment on who knows what, sometimes his mouth moves faster than his brain, but then Keith’s shoulder’s hunch and Lance winces as Keith loses the fight with his own body. It’s gross and totally not what Lance wants to be doing at this present moment but before he can make the conscious decision to be a nice person he’s already holding Keith’s hair away from his face. 

“Do you have a hair tie?” Lance asks in a low voice, and Keith moves a limp wrist to direct Lance’s attention to it. It’s one of Allura’s. Keith lets Lance manhandle his arm, carefully pulling the hair tie over his fingers so that Lance can use it to put Keith’s hair into a ponytail. When that’s done, Lance finds his hand moving absently between Keith’s shoulder blades and while the man stiffens he doesn’t exactly move away. 

Finally Keith relaxes, taking several steadying breaths before he starts to stand. Lance catches his shoulder, stopping him mid motion, “Where are you going?”

Keith shrugs, seeming not to want to answer, but Lance rolls his eyes and grabs the salad bowl from between Keith’s hands and carries it into his bathroom. He cleans it, wondering for the thirtieth time why he’s doing this, and then steps back into the main space. Keith’s staring at him in bewilderment, “I could have done that.”

“Sure, but I said I would help, so I am,” Lance shrugs, “I used to do this for my little brother all the time.”

Marco used to catch the flu every spring without fail and Lance, as the one who shared a room with him, had to clean up the mess. He’s a pro by now. 

Keith shakes his head and his hair falls across his shoulder. He looks worse now than he did when he showed up at Lance’s door, but Lance isn’t surprised by that fact, “You alright now?”

“Yeah,” Keith croaks, scrubbing his face with his hands, “Sorry.”

Lance nods, unsure what to say in response. Instead he pretends like the last ten minutes never happened, a skill he’s quite good at if he does say so himself, “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” Keith stares at Lance, his dark brows pulled low over his unreadable eyes. 

“All this. Why didn't you just… take yourself off it slowly instead of whatever you’re doing now?

“It’d be weeks of trying to negotiate how much is the correct amount. Weeks of being out of commission instead of days. There’s too much that can go wrong, too many opportunities for Shiro to stop me. It has to be now,” Keith sounds weary, like it’s a script he’s practiced and prepared, rehearsed in front of the mirror. 

“Sure,” Lance agrees, “But why  _ now _ ?”

He thinks he knows, but he wants to be certain. Wants to make sure that Keith’s doing this for the reasons that Lance hopes he is. 

“You know why,” Keith huffs and slides backward on the bed so that his spine is flush with the wall behind him. 

“Do I?”

Keith gives him a scathing look. 

“Listen, just… I need to hear it.”

Keith seems to realize that this is an important moment. That the next few days and their relationship in the future hinge on this. Maybe that’s why he says what he does, or maybe it’s because the fever has already started- his eyes do seem a little distant- but whatever the reason, Keith’s words are possibly the most honest that he’s said to Lance in… ever. 

“That fire… I-” Keith doesn’t meet Lance’s gaze, instead directing his attention at the high ceiling, “It’s not the first time something like that happened. I should be used to it by now, maybe, but I’m not. It’s worse, every time. And I thought… I thought maybe I could do it, that I could wait til Shiro figured it out, but you’re here now and I think this is my best chance. Maybe my only chance. Because I can’t be the reason people get hurt like that again.”

He knows deep down that Keith wasn’t actually why the fire took the lives of the people at that factory. He knows that, but he also knows there have been times before when it  _ was _ Keith’s fault. He stays silent as he watches Keith’s bowed head, his hands fisted at his sides to stop their shaking, his legs stretched out across Lance’s bed. He’s wearing a hoodie Lance thinks might be Shiro’s, the sleeves just a little too long for Keith, though it fits much better than Lance would have ever expected. 

“Okay,” Lance sighs, exhaling through pursed lips. 

“Okay?” Keith questions, one eyebrow quirking upward. 

“Okay, yes, I’ll help you. I won’t tell Shiro, you’re going to survive this, and we’re never,  _ ever  _ going to let anything like that happen again.”

Lance is determined now. Determined and also ignoring the way he’d accidentally said  _ we. _

It isn’t because he wants to help Keith per say, but because this might be the thing that saves a lot of lives. If they add Keith’s full power to Voltron, who knew how much it could help with energy boosts? There's more to this than just improving Keith’s life, but as the man in front of him glances up and meets his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile, Lance thinks that maybe he’s doing this for that reason too. 

 

**Now:**

It’s been another three hours and by now Lance can see what Keith meant about the suppressants regulating his body temperature. He’s still leaning against the wall, but his hair sticks haphazardly to his damp forehead and he’s down to just his t-shirt. His sweats are rolled up around his knees and his hands are limp in his lap. He swallows, throat bobbing, and Lance watches a bead of sweat slide along Keith’s defined jawline. 

Keith opens one eye squinting over at him, “What?”

“I just…” Lance tries to think of something, anything to say. He’s still sitting next to Keith, but it’s more out of necessity now than an uncertainty about where he should sit. After Keith’s skin became hot to the touch, Lance had suggested soaking his t-shirt and a towel in cold water. He’s using his ability to keep both cold without turning them to ice, but he’s worried that soon he’s going to have to freeze them to keep up with Keith, “I didn’t even know they made power suppressants. It’s odd to think that they’re out there an the G.A.L.R.A. aren’t using them on us.”

Us, meaning mutants. 

“It was made specifically for me,” Keith rasps and Lance pulls back so that he can see Keith’s full expression. His eyes are closed again and his brow is furrowed, a tiny dent appearing at the corner of one of his lips. 

“What?”

Keith sighs, then mumbles something. 

“Didn’t hear you.”

“I said, I don’t want to talk about it,” Keith shrugs, winces, then shifts his position

so that he’s sitting up straighter, “Can… can you make it any colder?”

“Yes,” Lance’s tone has an edge of steel, “When you tell me what you mean.”

“Lance,” Keith’s eyes slide open and he looks exhausted, dark circles somehow magnified by the deep blue of his eyes. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, probably trying to think of what to say and Lance relents, bringing the temperature of the water to just above freezing. Keith doesn’t seem to be expecting it, but relaxes anyway, his muscles releasing their tension just like his lips grudgingly release the words, “My… mom she… I don’t know a lot. She was… I’m…”

It’s almost physically painful to watch him struggle. His gaze is directed anywhere but at Lance and he’s suddenly fidgety despite having been entirely still for almost all of the last hour. 

“You don’t have to-” Lance says apologetically, kind of angry with himself, because Keith’s trying. He is. He’s answered all of Lance’s questions about what to do and what happened the last times he’d tried to come off the suppressants and maybe Lance should give him a break. This is the strangest series of interactions he’s had with Keith, but they haven’t been… bad, surprisingly. 

“No, I said I would answer your questions if you helped me and-” Keith coughs, shivering slightly and Lance wonders if he made the towel too cold, “You’re helping me. My mom’s the reason I’m on these. She was… she was part of the G.A.L.R.A. They’re the ones who uh. They… came up with the suppressants and my power was out of control, available and I was maybe four so what was I gonna do, say no? I don’t… really remember any of it so whatever but it’s been how I managed things since… forever.”

“Oh,” Lance says. 

“Oh god,” Keith blurts, suddenly, looking oddly embarrassed, “Please don’t do that. It’s fine. I’m fine. We’re fixing it, everything’s fine.”

“Sure,” Lance assures him, because he knows the last thing Keith wants is pity.

“I’m fine,” Keith says, again, quieter, like he’s trying to convince himself, “It’s fuckin hot though.”

“Yeah I know man, I’m trying. Lemme get another towel.”

 

**Now:**

They’re both lying on their backs on Lance’s bed. He’s not really sure how they’re managing to fit because it’s so God damned small, but they do. One of Lance’s feet is tucked under Keith’s leg and his arm is flush with Keith’s but it works. 

Keith’s got his face turned toward Lance as he talks, a small smile playing about his lips. His gaze isn’t focused, exactly, but he does know what’s going on- Lance checks in frequently and Keith always says the right things. He’s out of it though, obviously, since he’s letting Lance be this close to him. “Just tired,” Keith says, but Lance knows it’s the fever too. Keith’s skin is almost too hot to keep in contact with, but Lance keeps a steady stream of ice circulating along as much of Keith’s skin as he can manage. 

Keith can’t sleep so he asked Lance to talk, and even more shocking, Lance does. About Nyma, of all things. 

“She was… she rescued me, after my family died. I knew we weren’t like, conventionally in love or whatever, but she was more than anything I’ve ever had before and it hurts to lose that even though I know it probably wasn’t real.”

“Was real to you,” Keith turns to look back up at the ceiling. His long hair is still in that messy ponytail Lance threw it in earlier and Lance’s fingers itch to fix it, “That’s what’s important.”

His words slur a little and Lance glances at him in worry. If someone had told him nine hours ago, before all this happened, that he would be  _ worried  _ for Keith, he probably would have punched them on principle alone. 

“You good?”

Keith nods, his eyes slipping closed. His fingers twitch next to Lance’s and Lance wonders what he’s reaching for, “‘M listening, promise.”

“You can sleep ya know,” Lance yawns. It’s exhausting to keep up a constant use

of power like this, but he’s afraid of what might happen if he stops. 

“Yeah,” Keith murmurs, “‘M listening though. Keep talking”

His eyes are closed and Lance knows he’s probably not going to make it through whatever story is told next but Lance launches into an elaborate tale about the time he and Nyma stole a G.A.L.R.A. cruiser and took it for a joy ride. By the time he gets to the part where they abandoned it in a parking lot at the edge of a pre-G.A.L.R.A. Walmart, Keith’s breathing is slow and even, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm that Lance recognizes. 

This isn’t a place he’d ever thought he’d find himself, lying next to Keith, the person that can get under his skin like no one else. Hes repeating the same cycling thoughts over and over, he knows but it's just so wierd. This is the person that he’s actively been annoyed with since high school. There had been a few weeks where they’d gotten along, a few weeks where Lance had thought he’d made a new friend and he’d been pumped that he, of all people, had gotten the infamous Keith Kogane to like him. Then he’d gone to a party one weekend and seen  Keith for what, maybe two seconds the entire time? For some reason that next Monday, they’d been at each other’s throats. Keith had said some awful thing about being too good for Lance and since then, he hadn’t been able to stand the guy. 

Lance doesn’t really understand what happened back then, but from what he can gather from the memories he saw through the link and his current interactions with Keith, he thinks maybe Keith was trying to push him away. He can’t figure out why, for the life of him. It's not like they had even been close, but that’s the only way he can reconcile the Keith of then and the Keith of now. He can’t imagine this Keith, the guy passed out next to him with his mouth slightly open and his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, ever staring down at him with the same cold look he’d had back then. 

There's a long period of time when his mind wanders, thinking about anything and everything, his family, the fire, Voltron, Keith and then he wakes with a start when someone smacks him with the back of their hand on his chest. 

“Whaa?” Lance croaks, his eyes flying open with alarming speed. His head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton and it takes him a second to figure out where he is and who’s leaning over him, “Keith?”

“We gotta get breakfast,” Keith mumbles.

“The lights are still off. Go back to sleep,” Lance yawns, but Keith seems undeterred by this statement, pushing Lance out of his way as he tries to get up off the bed, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, dude, no. Lay back down. I’m not sure you should be moving around.”

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Keith reassures him, “If you really want to sleep in.”

“Sleep in? Keith what’re you-”

“Jesus, Acxa, I said I’d be right back-”

_ Acxa?  _ That startles Lance into sitting up and he catches Keith by the shoulders, “Hey man, do you know where you are?”

He wishes the lights were on so that he could make out the look in Keith’s eyes, but as it is, it’s too dark to tell how Keith reacts to that statement. Keith doesn’t respond to Lance’s question, but he pulls away from Lance’s grip, one hand come up to clutch at his forehead. 

“Keith, it’s Lance. You’re in my room.”

“Why?” Keith whispers. One hand fumbles in the darkness, brushing against Lance’s knee, his arm and then his face. Keith’s thumb catches on Lance’s lip and then falls away, “Lance?”

Keith sounds… scared. Fuck. Lance knew this might happen, but he’s still not ready for it when Keith shifts and asks, suddenly, terrifyingly, “Did we… we found Shiro? That wasn’t a dream?”

“Yeah,” Lance says,fear bubbling in his chest like his breath became carbonated. When he moves to try to push Keith back down into bed he jerks back with a hiss, “Shit dude you’re burning up. Like… giving me first degree burns, burning up. Do you uh… d o you want me to get Shiro? So you can know it wasn’t a dream?”

It’s a lame attempt to convince Keith to talk to his older brother and when it doesn’t work, Lance isn’t surprised, “No, no, I’m fine it’s just… It’s really hot Lance. Why is your room so hot?”

“The room isn’t hot Keith, you are,” Lance bites his lip, shifting so that he can better manhandle the guy next to him. 

Keith snorts a laugh and Lance’s frown deepens. His own sweatshirt feels too heavy for the temperature that his room is at now, but he doesn’t move to pull it off, not yet.

“Stop making fun of me,” Keith mumbles and Lance blinks in surprise. 

“What?” he says and then he rewinds the conversation in his head, to the last thing he said, “Oh no, Keith your temperature’s up, that’s what I mean.”

Keith breathes, “You don’t think I’m hot?”

Lance ignores that, partially because he doesn’t know how to answer and partially because he thinks Keith is probably delirious. This is his fault. He fell asleep and because of that, the power keeping Keith cool was cut off, “Damn it, I’m sorry man.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Keith reaches up, touching Lance’s cheek somehow despite the awkward embrace they’re in as Lance tries to get them both back into a comfortable position, “It’s okay. Everything’s fine. We’re good.”

“Mmmkay,” Keith mumbles something else Lance doesn’t hear, but Lance doesn’t bother to ask, instead continuing in the same soothing, slightly hysterical tone, “Are you tired? You sound tired. Why don’t you go to sleep and I’ll bring the temp down in the room.”

“‘Kay,” Keith murmurs, patting Lance’s cheek, once, twice, before his hand falls back to his side, “You’re a good guy Lance.”

“It’s official,” Lance laughs, hoping he doesn’t sound insane. Not that there’s anyone other than Keith here to hear it, and he probably won’t remember this, “Your fever is way too high.”

**Now:**

Despite his best efforts, despite Keith’s tossing and turning, muttered half sentences in the dark, and two instances of holding the salad bowl in place only for nothing to be in Keith’s stomach, Lance still falls asleep again sometime in the early morning. He swears that there’s snow falling in his room before he surrenders to unconsciousness, but when he wakes, the room feels like a sauna. He can't remember the last time he ate- at even the mention of food Keith began to resemble the color of curdled milk-and his mouth is drier than the Sahara. 

He lets his eyes crack open and realizes that the overhead lights powering on must have been what brought him back to the world of the living. He quickly reasserts his power, instantly freezing the towels beneath him and Keith, and the man next to him shifts, his lips parting around a small sound that makes Lance’s heart squeeze into his throat. 

They’re close, really close, now that Lance is starting to actually become aware of his surroundings and he realizes that his nose is inches from Keith’s. They’re lying facing each other, Keith on his stomach, half his face pressed into the pillow and Lance on his side, one leg hanging off the bed and the other burrowed somewhere under Keith’s. He needs to move, to get away, but Keith’s sleeping more peacefully than he had all night and for some reason the thought of disturbing that makes him feel guilty. 

So he lays there. 

And stares. 

It’s hard not to. Keith’s… well, asleep, he’s objectively just… beautiful. When he’s awake, he’s all jagged edges, sunlight reflecting off pieces of a broken mirror, but when he’s asleep, he smooths out to summer rays glancing off ripples in a pond. They’re both blinding in their intensity, Lance muses, but different in their meaning. Some of Keith’s jet black hair hangs across his face, lifting and falling with the force of Keith’s breath, and he’s hogging Lance’s only pillow but that doesn’t matter, somehow.

How had he gotten to this point? He’s straight. Kind of. Maybe. He’s always thought about guys, admired their looks, but it was stuff that could easily be explained away by male envy. Like he admired the way Shiro’s pec’s looked under that tight shirt because he wanted to have a body like that someday. Right? 

Fuck. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t particularly care either. It’s not an epiphany or particularly earth shattering to realize that he might kind of really want to make out with men. He’s tired of trying to convince himself otherwise. Maybe because it’s been months since he’s touched someone in anyway that’s more than just friendly or because he’s in constant proximity with several spectacular male specimens, or because Keith’s just so god damn near him, has been for hours and Lance is half conscious, exhausted, weary. Why does it matter what genders he likes when the world has gone to shit like this? 

It’s just… Keith? Why does he have to think  _ Keith  _ is pretty? Or handsome? Both? 

_ Fucking hell.  _

When he stops having his internal freak out, he refocuses his gaze and realizes that Keith’s got his head turned and he’s looking at him. His eyes are half lidded and Lance knows he can’t really, actually, truly be present, but there’s something soft in his expression and it makes Lance feel warm. Keith reaches out one pale, trembling hand and latches onto a piece of Lance’s hair, twisting it in his fingers. 

_ Am I… dreaming? This can’t be happening.  _

“Your hair looks kind of red in sunlight,” Keith murmurs and Lance wants to tell him that there isn’t any sun in here, that it’s just the glow coming from Keith himself, because fuck the man’s worse than before, practically supernova, but his tongue is made of sand and he isn’t actually sure he could force the words out right then. 

Keith’s lips are open, just slightly, and he’s close, much closer than Lance can ever remember him to be and he's still waging the same internal battle-- _ am I straight am I not, does it matter- _ he has the strangest urge to just-

He closes the distance and presses his mouth against Keith’s, molding their lips best he can with their awkward angle. Keith jerks away like he’s been scorched, his eyes wide and suddenly very very clear. They’re beautiful, Lance thinks somewhere in the back of his mind. Keith’s eyes are the color of the ocean depths. 

“You shouldn’t do that,” Keith says, his words only slightly muddled together. He seems to be working to concentrate. This isn’t the time for this, isn’t fair to either of them, but Lance can’t help it, “It’s…”

He seems to be struggling to think, to come up with an answer. He’s still searching Lance’s face like the word he’s looking for will be found there and Lance is reminded that yet again, this is  _ not the time for this.  _ Keith’s brow is furrowed and his eyes are dark, angry-

“Homophobic,” Keith says with certainty and Lance’s focus returns with a snap. 

“ _ What?”  _ Lance exclaims and Keith nods. 

“You’re messing with me, you’re… you’re not actually…” Keith gestures weakly. He’d pulled his hand away from Lance’s face at some point. Lance hadn’t noticed. 

“I don’t know what I am,” Lance’s voice sounds so much more damaged, shattered, than he intended. Maybe he needs this more than he thinks. Maybe it’s because this is the most contact he’s had with someone else in months and he just… maybe he just needs this. It's wrong and he shouldn't, he knows he shouldn't but he  _ wants this.  _ Whether it’s just physical attraction or something more is too much for his brain to process, but fuck, does he want this. 

He forces himself to stop thinking, to stop feeling and leans forward. He kisses Keith again, purposefully, intently, but this time Keith responds, his lips separating under Lance’s. Keith pulls himself up off the bed just enough to deepen their contact, to push back against Lance’s explorations. He needs both arms to support himself, but Lance doesn’t, and he takes full advantage of that, his fingers finding their way to the thick black hair that has just a slight bit of a wave to it at the back of Keith’s neck. 

When they pull apart, Keith’s breath is shaky and unsteady but Lance can’t tell if that’s because of the fever or if it’s Lance’s fault. He finds that he’s pleased by the thought that he might have caused it, that he might have pulled that reaction from stoic, stone-faced Keith but then the events of the last few minutes catch up to him and the panic starts. 

Oh god. 

What has he done?

He stands abruptly, and Keith shifts backward to stare up at him in confusion, some of his hair swinging across his forehead, brushing his cheeks and Lance wants to tuck it back behind his ear. 

Instead, he runs. 


	17. Hunk: Disasters of the Gay Variety

**Now:**

He’s reading on his bed, fully absorbed into the chapter he’s in the middle of when Lance bursts into his space without knocking and scares the shit out of him. The book is thrown, he may or may not scream, and Lance fumbles backward, one hand over his heart. 

“Jesus, Hunk!” Lance gasps, “It’s just me!”

“Dude, it’s like, way too early in the morning for you to be up!” Hunk tries to recover, picking his book up off the floor next to him, “And now that I think about it, you haven’t left your room in three days! Four, now!”

Lance waves his hand in the air as if he’s ridding it of Hunk’s words, “Dude, I’ve got a huge major crisis and I… think I just fucked up.”

Hunk’s heart goes cold, “Shit man, what’d you do.”

“I… I…” Lance’s face drains of color as he stares at Hunk, his mouth falling open, “Oh my god.”

“What. Did. You. Do?”

Lance doesn’t answer, staring at him in horror.

“Lance!”

“I kissed Keith,” Lance blurts, sinking to his knees, “Holy fuck Hunk I kissed him.”

Hunk, relieved that no one’s dead, sighs, “Oh thank god.”

Lance gives him a look of shock and disbelief and Hunk quickly backpedals, “No, no, I just… nothing’s exploded, everyone’s alive that’s all I mean and I… whoa dude, you… kissed Keith? How the hell did that happen?”

“He slept in my room last night-”

“He what?” Hunk bolts upright, “Lance, holy shit-”

“No, no he’s sick. He’s-” Lance clamps a hand over his mouth, “I’m not supposed to tell you.”

“Lance, he’s what,” Hunk slides to the edge of the bed, “I won’t say anything, but I need you tell me everything.”

“Keith went off his suppressants,” the words burst from Lance’s lips like he can’t get rid of them fast enough. He seems exhausted, wearing pj’s that look like he hasn’t changed out of them since the last mission, “He asked me to help keep him cool and I agreed because it’s my fault, kind of, that he’s doing it in the first place, and I felt  _ bad _ Hunk, he needed my help, so I said, I said I wouldn’t tell anyone. So I’ve been doing that, helping him I mean, but god he’s just… attractive, you know, and I’ve been so annoyed with him for weeks-”

“Lance, whoa, slow down,” Hunk slides off the bed and walks over to his friend on his knees, resting his hands on Lance’s shoulders. Lance lets out a gasping breath that sounds more like a sob and Hunk shakes his head, “Keith went off his suppressants?”

“Yes,” Lance nods, “He’s in my room. He’s okay right now.”

“That’s… good. So start from the beginning. Why’d you kiss him?”

“I don’t know,” Lance moans, and he folds in on himself, his hands covering his face, “I really don’t know Hunk.”

“You said something about finding him attractive,” Hunk prods, because Lance needs to talk about this obviously, else he wouldn’t have come here. 

“Yeah,” Lance sniffs, then takes a deep breath, “Yeah. I… I think I found him cute in high school too, you know, but I was always dating some girl and I didn’t really think anything of it. But then, I saw him now and he’s got those god damned broad shoulders and sharp jawline and long eyelashes and fucking hell Hunk has he ever looked at you when he’s not being an asshole because it’s just…”

Lance gestures at nothing and makes a noise like he’s being strangled and Hunk has to suppress a laugh, “How long have you felt like this?”

“It’s not… I don’t feel like anything!” Lance squawks, “It’s not like I even like him or anything he’s just pretty, alright? Handsome! I don’t know! What word do you use when you’re like gay for a dude but not actually really gay?”

Hunk stares at him for a long, long moment and finally Lance crumples. 

“Shit, Hunk, I think I’m bi.”

Slow surprise takes Hunk and he realizes that this is the first time Lance is coming to this

understanding about himself. Or at least, he thinks it is, “Wait, Lance you didn’t know that?” 

“What?” Lance raises an eyebrow, “Hunk I’m having a moment here and you’re ruining it.”

“No, Lance, this is like… the  _ third  _ time you’ve told me you were bi.”

“ _ What?”  _ Lance’s voice reaches a new hysterical height and Hunk regrets the way he phrased it. 

“I mean, you were drunk for the other two, in your defense.”

Lance stares at him, his mouth hanging open. His breathing is ragged, uneven and Hunk knows he needs to salvage this situation quickly. 

“Uh, look it was after a party in high school, you were like blackout so I’m not even sure you meant it and then in college, after you went to that one frat house, you came back the next morning still wasted and said you’d made out with some blonde guy in the closet and you didn’t actual hate it. I just thought you were embarrassed or wanted it to be a secret or something, so I didn’t mention it again, I’m sorry.” 

“Oh my god,” Lance buries his face in his elbow, his knees drawn up to his chest, “I like men.”

“And women,” Hunk offers helpfully, “None of us care, honestly. Pidge changes her sexuality like every other day and Keith’s the biggest disaster gay I know.”

Lance doesn’t acknowledge this, his face still buried. Hunk lets him process for a bit in silence because Lance is obviously not firing on all cylinders, his brown hair fluffed up around his ears and dark shadows like bruises alongside his pointed nose. This might not be the time to have this kind of self-reflection, but there’s not always a choice. 

“Did… Did Keith kiss you back?” Hunk asks softly and Lance jerks upright. 

“I don’t know,” he says slowly, “I think so?”

“Do you want him to have?”

“... I don’t know,” Lance whispers, “Maybe?”

“Do you like him, ya know, like that?” Hunk asks and Lance blinks at him, his blue eyes wide and anxious. 

“He still makes me angry,” Lance murmurs, “That hasn’t changed. He still got a lot of people hurt and it’s aggravating as hell, but he’s trying to fix that now. He’s still a cocky, arrogant, jerk, but I’m starting to think a lot of that is just show? Or, honestly, that’s he’s really that good and doesn’t realize he’s being a dick about it. He still pisses me off and I still want to throat punch him, but I’m realizing that I don’t think I’ve ever had a real conversation with him where I didn’t immediately jump down his throat for something and that’s kind of… sad.”

“So he’s an asshole… but he’s growing on you?”

“No, no he’s not growing on me that’s… he’s just trying to be different and I can appreciate that. Along with his ass. Shit Hunk, how did I not figure out I was bi sooner? The amount of time I spend looking at that man’s-”

“So it’s basically a physical attraction, that’s what you’re saying?” Hunk interrupts, really not wanting to hear about whatever Lance was going to comment on next. 

“The safe answer is yes.” Lance peers at Hunk from over his own knees, his chin tucked into his arms. 

“And the unsafe answer?”

Lance doesn't respond for a long second. Hunk notices with dawning horror that there's a tear trickling down Lance's cheek, landing without a sound on the exposed skin of his wrist. 

“Oh shit, Lance-”

“Nothing makes sense anymore,” Lance breathes, “My family is dead, I became a thief, found a girl I thought I loved and then I'm suddenly a hero and there's an Astral plane and I'm kissing Keith fucking Kogane. I don't know who I am or who I'm supposed to be anymore.”

“That's okay,” Hunk keeps his voice low, “None of us do. That's what we're here to figure out. We'll help you find out who you are. Even Keith, if you want him to.”

“I don't know.”

“You've got time to decide,” he taps Lance's shin with his foot and the man finally looks at him, “We’re not going anywhere.”

Lance smiles, weakly at first, but then with teeth when he sees Hunk’s hopeful expression. These are the conversations he misses with Lance, the ones they used to have where they told each other everything. He thought he might never have another one, that any chance of being as close as they had been was gone but here Lance is and here he is and everything is right with the world. 

For about thirty five seconds and then Lance's expression dissolves into panic again, “Shit, I just left Keith.”

“You said he was okay?”Hunk asks as Lance bolts to his feet and out of the room, motioning for Hunk to follow. 

“He was when I left but I was keeping him cool Hunk. Fucking shit. Keith?” Lance sprints down the hall, nearly bowling Allura over, who spins out of the way with a shout. 

“What's wrong Lance?” the princess questions and Hunk shrugs as he hurries past her. 

“I coaxed him out of his room with some cookies but they didn't agree with him.”

Allura gives him a look of concern, “Oh no, is he alright? What was he saying about Keith?”

“It's Keith's fault!” Lance yells from where he'd apparently heard the conversation, “Tell him to fuck off if you see him!”

“Uh, okay?” Allura says but Hunks already past her with an apologetic smile, slipping into Lances room with a sharp inhale of surprise. 

“Holy hell dude your room is-” the word  _ hot _ dies on his tongue as he takes in the scene. Lance has stopped in the middle of the doorway, his hands outstretched in placation, surrender. Keith is crouched on Lance's bed, on hand braced behind him on the wall, the other stretched in front of him holding a knife that Hunk has never seen before. His eyes are partially hidden by his hair but Hunk can tell that something's not right that they look… Yellow? 

“Keith,” Lance says slowly but Keith interrupts him. 

“No more,” Keith growls, his voice low and gravelly. 

“We’re not here to hurt you,” Hunk says softly and Lance shoots him a glare that can easily be read as an order to  _ shut up.  _

“You're here to help me, is that it?” Keith says sarcastically. He shifts lower, from a defensive posture to a more aggressive one, his tone dangerous, “You always say that.”

“Keith,” Lance says in the most careful voice Hunk has ever heard his friend use with the black haired man in front of them, “It's Lance. Do you remember coming in here yesterday? I said I would keep you cool and I'm sorry man I think I failed you.”

Keith doesn't speak. His brow furrows just slightly, almost imperceptibly, but it's a good sign, in Hunks opinion. 

Hunk blinks, and Keith's moving, pushing off from the bed. He makes it to the floor and inches from Lance before the water elemental makes a fist with his right hand and water freezes around Keith's feet and torso, stopping him mid motion. Keith struggles for a second, his eyes wild as sweat evaporates off his forehead practically before it can form. Lance takes a step forward but Hunk grabs his arm, “Hold on-”

Before he can finish his sentence, Keith's irises reappear. They immediately roll into the back of his head and he crumples to the ground, limp. Lance lunges past Hunk, catching Keith with one arm behind his neck and the other somewhere behind his back. They both go down, hitting the floor with a  _ thud _ and a grunt from Lance. 

Lance pats one of Keith's cheeks with the back of his hand, “Keith? Buddy?”

He doesn't respond. His feet are bare, his sweatpants rolled up around the ankles, his knees awkwardly crossed over one another. Half of Keith's torso is in Lance's lap, his head resting on Lance's arm, and his hands hang loosely at his sides, wrists up and palms open. 

Lance presses his hand to Keith’s chest and ice forms on the man’s skin like armor, “Hunk, you need to find Shiro. Now.”

“But I thought you said-”

“Now Hunk!” Lance barks and Hunk jumps. He scurries backward through the curtain covering Lance’s doorway and nearly steps on Pidge. She moves out of the way just in time, straightening her glasses with an irritated push of her finger. 

“What the hell, Hunk?”

“I don’t have time for this, where’s Shiro?” he asks, urgency spilling through his veins like too much caffeine. 

“What? He’s with the girls in the movie room-”

Hunk sprints down the hall, skidding around the corner and into the playroom. Shiro’s there with his girls- Eliza, on his back, while Charlie sword fights her sister, all three of them laughing as Eliza nearly falls off and Shiro deftly catches her with his robotic arm. 

“Shiro!” Hunk stumbles into the room, chest heaving, “Shiro, something’s wrong with Keith!”

In one smooth motion Shiro snags Eliza off his back and sets her gently on the ground, yelling, “Allura! The girls need you in the playroom!” as he races past Hunk into the hall. 

“Is he in his room?” Shiro asks and Hunk shakes his head  _ no.  _

“Lance’s,” Hunk directs, and Shiro’s eyebrows rise, but he doesn’t say anything. He breezes past Keith’s room and bats Lance’s curtain aside, charging into it so quickly Hunk hears Lance give a squeak of surprise. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Shiro’s low voice rumbles just as Hunk finally catches up, sinking to the floor once he’s inside. Lance is in the same position he’d been in when Hunk had left, cradling Keith in his lap. Shiro kneels next to them, one hand hovering over Keith’s face like he wants to touch him but is afraid to. 

“I'm sorry Shiro, he made me promise not to tell you-”

“Not to tell me what, Lance? I'm not mad, I just need to know what's wrong so I can help.”

“He stopped taking the power suppressants,” Lance says in a small voice, his grip on Keith so tight his fingers are white, “He asked me to help and I… I left for just a few minutes and when I got back he thought we were someone else and he passed out. His eyes were yellow, Shiro.”

“He  _ what?”  _ Shiro exclaims, standing. He turns and faces away from them, his hands on his hips, tension in his shoulders, “God  _ damn it  _ Keith!”

Every time he’s brought up the whole, “yellow eyes” thing in the past, it’s been brushed aside as a side effect of when Keith loses control. Hunk knows there has to be more to it than that, but before he can ask again, the man in Lance's arms shudders, his fingers twitching as he groans and seems to come back alive, fighting against the ice that's now keeping him imprisoned. He lets out a panicked gasp and then, seeing that his way to freedom is blocked by frozen water, bursts into flame. 

Lance, instead of screaming or retreating or acting like a rational person would, moves closer. Then, he drenches Keith in a spout of water that leaves the other man soaked and sputtering, his clothes steaming as he sits on the concrete floor, squinting at the three men surrounding him. 

“Keith,” Shiro says, breaking the silence. 

Keith doesn't look up, his gaze trained on the floor as he shivers. His wet hair sticks to his cheeks, his neck, and Lance grabs a dry towel off a shelf, holding it out for Keith to grab like he's afraid Keith might just as soon stab him than take it. Lance could probably dry him with a flick of his wrist, but Hunk would bet his power level is too low if he's resorting to towels. 

“I thought we said we weren't going to do this again,” Shiro sounds tired, old, and when Hunk shifts his attention toward their leader, Shiro has the bridge of his nose pinched between two fingers. 

“ _ You  _ said that,”Keith spits, accepting the proffered towel. His words sound like he can’t quite move his lips in the right way to form them, and Hunk thinks this might not be a good time to have a serious conversation. He’s not in charge though, “ _ you  _ said you weren't willing to try. I just went along with what you said.”

“Keith-”

“I love you Shiro,” Keith says, drying himself slowly, “But you're wrong about this. I have to do it.”

“I agree,” Lance cuts in, “We've had success so far and I think-”

“This doesn't  _ involve _ you, Lance,” Shiro snaps and everyone turns to stare at him, “I'm… I didn't mean that. I'm worried. Okay? Rightfully so. You’ve nearly died, twice.”

“I’ve nearly died more often than that this week alone. I could die on the next mission. We don’t know!” Keith replies, “Please Shiro. I  _ need  _ to do this.”

“I'm not going to let him die,” Lance speaks up again, despite Shiro’s reprimand. His jaw is set and Hunk wonders if this determination is because it's about Keith or if he would act like this with anyone. 

“You already left him once,” Shiro argues and Lance blanches.

“I know, but that was… That was because I made a mistake, sir,” Lance hasn't called Shiro ‘sir’ in weeks, months maybe, but this stern version of Shiro must be bringing it out in him, “It won't happen again.”

Hunk’s the only one who sees Keith's reaction to Lance’s statement. Its astonishing in its intensity, hurt flashing across his face, one hand twisting tightly into the towel, before it’s gone and he's hiding back behind his wall of indifference by the time his brother or Lance redirects their attention back to him. 

“I'm glad we got that sorted,” Keith says dryly, “Can someone help me onto the bed?”

Twenty minutes later and everything is situated. Keith lays propped by too many pillows and Lance sits in front of him, cross legged. He keeps one hand pressed to the comforter, maintaining a steady layer of ice surrounding Keith. Now that the rest of them are aware of the situation, they can supply Lance with more power. His was nearly on empty last time Hunk checked, so he sends a wad of energy along the bond toward him and is rewarded by the straightening of Lance's spine. 

“I can't believe you promised me and then you went and did it anyway,” Shiro frowns at his brother, who offers a weak grin. 

“Really? You can't believe that's something I'd do?”

“Not to me,” Shiro says, refusing to let this situation become a joke, “I thought me of all people you'd be honest with.”

Keith's mouth twists and he looks away, meeting Lance's gaze for a brief moment before his eyes fall to his hands, “I know.”

“I get why you didn't tell me,” Shiro shakes his head, his shock of white hair almost brushing his nose as he does so. He needs a haircut, badly, “I didn't really leave you another choice.”

“No, you didn't,” Keith agrees. Hunk can't tell if he's just looking downward or if his eyes are closed, but he’s gone pale again. Lances fingers twitch and he comes within an inch of touching Keith's leg before he pulls back, uncertainty in the angle of his lips, the tilt of his head. 

Shiro picks up on all this, pats Keith on the shoulder and says, “Alright, you need to get rest. We're going to keep Lance here on ice duty and I'm going to see if Pidge can come up with some alternatives to the suppressants just in case this doesn't work. What'd you do with the old ones?”

“Flushed ‘em,” Keith mumbles and Shiro rolls his eyes skyward like he's asking God for mercy. 

“Guess she'll have to start from scratch then. Awesome. Sleep now, and if anything,  _ anything,  _ happens, one of you two come get me, alright? I won't be far.”

“You’re leaving?” Keith asks, sounding alarmed despite the fact that he hadn’t apparently wanted Shiro there to begin with. 

“Just for a few minutes. I'll be back,” Shiro reassures him, standing with a sigh and a crack of his back as he stretches. 

“We’ll be here,” Lance gives Shiro a small smile. It's returned and then Shiro’s gone, leaving the three of them in Lance's bedroom.

“Your brother’s going to kill me,” Lance accuses Keith a second later, “Look what you've done.”

“He’s going to kill me first,” Keith sighs, his mouth hardly moving to form the words, “You'll at least have time to make a head start.”

A shocked laugh bursts from Lance's lips and Keith cracks one eye just long enough to see Lance's response before he closes it again. H e's asleep less than a minute later . 

 

**Now** :

Two hours later and Shiro still hasn't returned. Keith's started this shifting in his sleep thing and he says Shiro’s name a few times. Hunk can't make out anything else. 

“Is this normal?” he asks and Lance nods. 

“He was like this all night,” Lance reaches forward and shifts the blanket higher on Keith's waist. There's concern in the movement and Hunk decides then is as good as any to say something. 

“Lance, just so you know,” Hunk begins and his friend perks up, “I think that it's important you know that I think maybe-”

“Hunk spit it out.”

“Keith likes you, I think. Or not likes you, but just… I mean, don't panic, but he seemed a little upset by the fact that you said you had made a mistake.”

“I didn't mean by kissing him,” Lance says immediately, “Hunk I don’t think he even remembers that.”

“I know,” Hunk aquieses, “I just wanted to tell you.”

He’s still stuck on the fact that Keith’s eyes turned yellow and he wasn’t on fire, but he’s pretty sure that Lance doesn’t know anything more about it than he does. Besides, Lance has too many other things to worry about for Hunk to consider bringing it up. He’s gone this long without knowing everything about the group he hangs out with, he can make it longer. 

Lance gets this little pensive furrow in his brow. It stays there for the next half an hour until Keith leans on his side and mumbles, “Lance?”

Neither he nor Lance responds, thinking that it's just Keith talking in his sleep again, but Keith repeats himself, louder this time. 

“Oh, hey dude,” Lance greets him like they're encountering each other at a college frat party and Hunk winces internally, “Whatcha need?”

“Can you ask them to be quiet?” He's got his face scrunched into the pillow and Hunk exchanges a worried look with Lance. 

“Ask who to be quiet?” 

“The girls.” Keith huffs like it's obvious, “They can play in my room if they want but they're just… Loud.”

“Keith, the girls are with Allura,” Hunk says slowly, “What're you hearing?”

“Charlie's crying,” Keith starts to shove upright but Lance moves to be in his way, “That's what I- can't you hear her? Lance move-”

“Keith you're hallucinating-” Lance grunts as he wrap his arms around Keith's torso and refuses to let go, clasping his own wrist on the other side of Keith’s back. 

“She  _ needs me _ ,” Keith protests, “Lance,  _ let go!  _ Why aren't you helping her?”

“She's not actually there Keith,” Hunk says, playing defense in case the man escapes from Lance's hold, but he stops struggling after a moment. 

Hunk realizes why when he sees that Keith is gazing down at Lance like he'd just realized who was holding him. He brings one hand down to cup Lance's chin in his palm and Hunk can tell that his friend is trying to keep it together. Lance abruptly lets go and Keith tumbles backward onto the pillows, slumping against the pillows. Keith isn’t looking at Lance anymore, and Hunk can’t tell if Keith actually meant to touch Lance like that or if it was just a tactic to get him to freedom. 

“Do you remember why you hate me yet?” Keith’s words are soft, but full of heat like a small campfire on a brisk fall day.

“Because you were an asshole to me in chemistry?” Lance says wryly. Keith lets out an exasperated breath. 

“No. It's fine. Maybe you'll remember and maybe you won't but it's fine.” Keith mutters, looking anything but fine, “It's really hot Lance.”

“Yeah I know,” Lance says sadly, “I know.”

 

_ Pidge _

She’s in her lab for three hours with a sample of Keith’s blood and Shiro peering over her shoulder. It’s going to essentially be impossible to come up with a new power suppressant without the old ones as a base, even with Hunk’s help, but she’s afraid to tell Shiro that. He’s been pacing behind her for the last hour and she’s kind of scared that he’s going to wear a hole in her floor. 

“Shiro, you don’t have to be here,” Pidge says, again. 

“You need the code from my arm to break into the G.A.L.R.A. files,” Shiro says, again, “I’ll be here til someone else needs me more.”

She doesn’t sigh, not audibly at least, because she knows Shiro’s just worried. She watches him out of the corner of her eye, making sure that he doesn’t trip over any of her cords in his path. 

She’s realizing that she’s going to make absolutely no progress on this until she either has some info from the G.A.L.R.A database, which isn’t likely, or Hunk provides some assistance. Before she can ask Shiro to get Hunk for her, the man in question bursts into her lab.

“Shiro,” Hunk pants, hands on his knees, “Shit I’m tired, uh, anyway, Keith’s asking for you. Lance says he’s in pain but I honestly can’t tell so I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt and getting you anyway.”

Shiro’s brow furrows, “Pidge-”

“Sounds like someone needs you more,” she says in monotone, pushing her glasses up on her nose and Shiro flashes her a grateful smile that she tries not to let warm her as much as it does. 

“Hunk,” she catches him just before he can leave, “I need your help with figuring this out. Shiro wants me to replicate the power suppressants but I don’t want to just make the same thing over, obviously that’s a bad idea. How does he expect me to have it done in time?

“‘Cause you’re a genius of course,” Hunk scoffs and Pidge rolls her eyes. 

“Sure. Help me, will you?”

“Pidge I'm an engineer not a pharmacist.”

“Yeah well you're smart and took chemistry,” she grunts, pulling on his arm, “Help. Me.”

He does. They still aren't any closer to figuring something out when Allura pokes her head in a while later, her hair up and tied away from her face in the way that means she's leaving the compound. 

“Pidge?” she asks in that proper accent of hers, “Can I borrow Hunk for a while? There's been a distress beacon set off in a town near the Nevada border and we could use his help.”

“Do you need me to go?” Pidge steps off her stool, but Allura shakes her head. 

“No I'm just taking Hunk and Coran. Shiro and Lance are busy with Keith and you're needed figuring out a possible substitute for Keith's suppressants. Would you possibly be able to watch the girls for me? I can get Shiro but I'd hate to make him leave Keith and I don't think he'd want the girls to see him like that.”

“Uh, sure,” Pidge agrees but on the inside she's screaming. She doesn't spend a lot of time with the girls alone. A few minutes here and there, a bit of a distraction provided when needed but never extended babysitting time. 

“Thanks Pidge,” Allura smiles and the girls race past her legs into the lab. They've spent a significant amount of time in here with Allura when Pidge was trying to locate Shiro. Thankfully, they know what to stay away from and what areas they can go into. Allura waves goodbye, mouths  _ good luck _ and then leaves her alone. 

“So girls,” Pidge frowns at her screen and then at the backs of the girls heads. They've located the video game station she and Lance have been messing with, both of their attention directed toward the two controllers, “Whatcha wanna do while Aunt Pidge fixes your uncle?”

“Video games!” Eliza crows and Pidge smiles. 

“That, I can do.”

 

**Now** :

“Aunt Pidge?” Charlie asks after they lose to the final boss in Killbot Phantasm for the second time. 

“Yeah?” Pidge answers, checking on the progress of her virus. It hasn’t found anything yet about any kind of power suppressants but there’s too much data for the program to search through for that to be concerning yet. 

“Is Uncle Keith gonna be okay?”

At those words, Eliza puts down her controller and turns to face Pidge, worry on her small face. 

“Yeah,” Pidge says, despite the fact that she’s uncertain, “Uncle Lance and your dad are making sure he’s alright.”

“But daddy’s really worried,” Eliza murmurs, her fingers anxiously twining in the hem of the dress that she loves to wear. It’s dark blue and ever since Lance told her that it makes her look like a superhero princess, Allura can hardly get it off her to wash it. 

“And when is Mama coming back?” Charlie frowns, “She’s been gone a long time.”

“She’ll be back soon,” Pidge shrugs, “Sometimes missions take a while, you guys know that. What do you usually do with uncle Coran while we’re out?”

“Schoolwork,” Eliza says and Charlie wrinkles her nose. 

“Well, we’re not doing that,” Pidge says decisively and both girls sigh in relief, “I can’t leave this room… but what if we turned the room into a fort?”

Eliza’s eyes get huge and Charlie begins to practically glow with excitement, “I’ll get the blankets from the movie room!”

That’s how Allura finds them when she returns how ever much later. Pidge and the girls have the entire lab draped in blankets and pillows. They play Mario Cart while Pidge stabilizes one of the outside walls and keeps an eye on her monitor. She’s gotten a couple hits, just mentioning brief experiments they did with suppressants, one of which she’s pretty sure was on Shiro, but nothing that alludes to possible chemical make-up. 

She could, of course, just use old data, develop the same pills she’s had the machines creating for the past few years. But they’re trying to move past that. If Keith has to go back on this stuff, she wants to find something better, something new. Keith’s willing to die rather than continue with the old stuff and she’s not going to make him get right back on the after going through all this. 

 

**Now** :

She spends the next day in the lab. She doesn't notice when it gets dark, she and Hunk working together to both keep Lance supplied with energy and to come up with something else they can use if this goes south. 

But the longer she goes without Hunk telling her that Keith is dying, the more she thinks he might actually make it this time. She's never been one for optimism but this time her negative beliefs are being challenged. 

They’re making progress, slowly but surely. She sleeps a little in the blanket fort that the girls made. She doesn’t have the heart to take it down, and the girls spent all afternoon inside it even though their mother is safe in the next room. Allura doesn’t say anything to Pidge about it and Pidge thinks she might just be grateful for the peace and quiet. 

The next morning, or what might be the next morning, she’s alone in her lab. The girls are asleep, as are Allura, Hunk and Coran. Shiro is still in Lance’s room with Keith, presumably, and Lance is there with them. She hasn’t gone to see Keith since everything started. She’s not sure he would want her there, and she knows she has work to do here. Might as well be where she can make a difference. 

“Hey,” someone says from behind her and she jumps, fully expecting to be by herself for the next few hours. 

“Jesus christ!” she yelps and then spins and smacks the chest of whatever male just entered her space. Then her brain begins processing again and she realizes that the voice belongs to  _ Keith.  _ Keith, who’s rubbing his chest where she’d smacked him with a rueful smile. “Oh my god. You’re alive?”

“Yeah?” He says, one eyebrow twitching upward. 

“Where’s Lance and Shiro? Why are you out of bed? Dude, sit down!”

“I’m fine Pidge,” Keith grumbles, his arms rising to cross over his chest. He’s wearing one of Shiro’s oversized t-shirts and she thinks those are Lance’s pants. She doesn’t say anything about it though, because he’s alive and in her lab and there’s a small part of her that thought she might never get to talk to him again. “Lance and Shiro are asleep. I’m good, but Lance and Shiro don’t seem to believe me, so I uh…”

“Snuck out,” she says and he shrugs. 

“You could say that.”

“But you’re okay now?” Pidge still can’t quite believe it. She reaches out and taps his shoulder, half expecting her fingers to go through his apparition. 

“Tired, but yeah. I think maybe… I did it?” his expression is neutral, but she can hear the excitement and hope in his voice, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. 

“I mean you’re alive so I’d say,” Pidge holds up her hand and Keith stares at it. 

“You want to high five?”

“Well yeah, Keith, this is a high five moment. You did it. You’ve been trying since high school. You deserve a high five.”

“No.”

“Oh come on, just-” she snags his wrist. He lets her, and she forces his limp hand to high five hers. He rolls his eyes but she can tell he’s not actually annoyed with her. 

“Keith?” she hears someone call from the hallway and Keith’s eyes widen almost  imperceptibly. 

“Shit,” he glances around the room but there’s nowhere to hide. He takes off, jogging toward the back of her lab where there’s another exit but Shiro appears there just as he makes it to the doorway. He steps backward, scowling at his brother’s grin, clearly intending to bolt for the other entryway, but then Lance fills its space. 

“No,” Keith rumbles, “You’re not taking me back to Lance’s room.”

“We can go to yours instead,” Shiro offers and Keith shakes his head. 

“That’s not any better Shiro, come on,” Keith wheedles, his hands outstretched, “I want to go for a drive. Just a short one. It’s been weeks.”

“It’s been  _ maybe  _ a week,” Shiro retorts, his arms crossed over his chest as he advances, “You need to rest.”

“I rested the past three days. I’m fine.”

“Dude, you’re forgetting that we’re psychically connected,” Lance pipes up from

where he’s leaning against the makeshift door frame, “We know you’re tired.”

“Being tired doesn’t make me not  _ okay,”  _ Keith snaps back, “Seriously guys this isn’t funny.”

“I’m not trying to make a joke,” Shiro takes a wide stance, “You can either come with me of your own volition or I’ll drag you to one of the hospital beds and handcuff you to the side bar. I’ve done it before, I’ll do it again.”

Keith’s eyes flare a bright and angry red and Pidge’s heart leaps because  _ holy shit  _ they’re not yellow. They’re just bright crimson, the color of rose petals and blood. They’re the color that their link should make them without the power suppressants interference. 

“Nope, not doing that,” Shiro says, curt and sharp but he’s smiling as he races forward, somehow throwing Keith over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Keith gives a wordless shout and lands a solid kick to Shiro’s midsection, but the older man just absorbs it and tightens his grip. 

“I am,” Keith grunts, “Twenty six. You can’t do this to me anymore!”

“Looks like I’m doing it right now,” Shiro challenges. Keith falls limp with a groan and wriggle, giving Pidge a look of such defeat that she decides to step in. 

“How about a deal?” Pidge proposes and Shiro turns to face her, giving Pidge a solid view of the struggling back half of Keith, “I’ll give him a blood test and if there’s sufficiently low levels of power suppressant you let him go for a drive.”

Shiro pauses, then shrugs, earning another groan from Keith, “Alright fine. After the drive though, you’re on lockdown til you get another eight hours of sleep, capiche?” 

“We do the south loop then,” Keith counters and Shiro sighs. 

“You’re not in a position to make demands,” he says, but then relents, “Fine. South loop.”

“To the infirmary,” Pidge gestures and Shiro refuses to set his brother down, literally dragging him to the hospital room. Lance trails behind with Pidge, his hands in his pockets. 

“What’s the south loop?” he asks. 

“It’s a trail that goes really close to the edge of the G.A.L.R.A. occupied portion of the city. It’s Keith’s favorite cause there’s a sharp drop off where one of the bridges at the edge of town went out. He likes to take his motorcycle down it and Shiro always gives him shit for it, but I know he loves the loop as much as Keith.”

“Ah.”

“Lance,” Pidge says, watching out of the corner of her eye to make sure that Shiro  and Keith have made it out of earshot, “I know you don’t really like Keith that much, but I want to say… thank you. From the rest of the team. They may not say it in such frank terms, but we all really appreciate the fact that you kept him alive through this. I don’t know…”

She clears her throat and pats his shoulder, “We couldn’t lose him and you didn’t

let us, so thanks.”

“Katie Holt,” Lance says and Pidge is almost startled by the sound of her old name,

“Thanking me? For keeping Keith alive? Holy shit. What kind of alternate universe-”

“Oh shut up,” she snaps and slaps his arm, “Let’s just get this over with so the worst patient ever can get his adrenaline fix.”

They head into the hospital room together to find Shiro and Keith bantering back and forth while Keith lounges on the cot. He holds his arm out absently for Pidge when he sees her.

“Thank you,” he says, after she pricks his arm with the needle and it means  _ thank you  _ for more than just this, for all the things that have come before and will be. God she reads too much into things sometimes. She's not certified to be doing this, it should be Coran, but all of them know basic first aid as a necessity now. She's done this before to develop Keith's old power suppressant and they're both familiar with it. 

It only takes a few minutes for the program she and Hunk developed from a mismatch of different G.A.L.R.A. codes to analyze Keith's blood. When the results pop up, Keith leans forward in anticipation and Shiro looks both hopeful and afraid. 

She can't keep the grin off her face when she spins on her stool to face her family again, “It's clean. Trace amounts of power suppressant but that'll work its way out by tomorrow I'd guess. If it's this low in his bloodstream and he feels fine I'd say he's probably done with withdrawal? I'm not a doctor but-”

“Pidge,” Keith interrupts, “Pidge you're good, that's enough. Isn't it Shiro?”

Shiro doesn't say anything. He's staring at Pidges monitor with his mouth slightly open and his eyes squinting and he takes slow even breaths. 

“Shiro?” Lance asks softly. Keith looks accusingly at Pidge like she's the one who broke Shiro, but she doesn't have the faintest idea why he's being like this. 

“It's just…” Shiro says after another heartbeat, another slow breath, “I never thought this would happen. I thought we'd-you'd have to manage this forever or else I'd lose you and I never thought-”

Keith looks mortified by this display of affection, “Shiro were good, I'm good. I'm telling you.”

“I know, and Lance, I… Thank you.” he says and then he pulls the man next to him into a tight embrace, “You saved his life in more than one way and I can never repay you for that.”

“Good God Shiro,” Keith sounds like he's being strangled. 

“Shut up, you,” Pidge hisses, “Let him be happy you're alive.”

Keith looks sufficiently cowed, the pinprick on the inside of his elbow welling up with a single drop of blood. She wipes it as Keith pulls the two men apart with his quick, “South loop? You made a deal.”

“South loop,” Shiro agrees, wiping his nose on his sleeve in a gross gesture Pidge hopes he doesn't pass on to his girls, “You get the helmets and I'll grab the jackets?”

“You even remember where we parked the bikes old man?” Keith cajoles as he hops off the cot and on to his feet. It's not as smooth as it might have been but no one comments. She fully expects Shiro to force him back into bed for another two days once they return anyway--there's no point. 

“I didn't know you had bikes,” Lance comments and surprisingly Keith's the one who answers. 

“Yeah man, we keep them pretty far out as a backup in case anything goes south but they're good for some fun too.” He hesitates, then follows Shiro out, glancing behind him once then twice, then he pauses in the doorway as he calls over his shoulder, “Oui, Shiro, get Alluras helmet, Lance is coming with.”

“I am?” Lance squeaks, looking shocked and Keith smiles. 

“Yes, you are.”


	18. Allura: The Rise of Voltron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! This chapter is a little shorter, and I didn't get to post it around Christmas as expected, but here is anyway!

Allura

**Now:**

The air in the room is almost too thick to breathe. It’s warm and humid and Allura finds it harder and harder to focus. A bead of sweat trickles down the back of her neck along her spine and she grimaces. 

Keith mirrors her expression on the inside of the ring. He’s got his hands on his knees, doubled over as he draws in huge gulps of air, his narrowed eyes tracking his opponent with precision. Lance paces around him, his hands up in a defensive posture that Shiro has been drilling into them, a cocky grin on his face. 

“That really all you got?” Lance taunts and Keith shakes his head vigorously, freeing his bangs from where they’d been stuck along his forehead. Lance is drenched, but Allura can’t tell if it’s from his ability or the heat. She supposes it doesn’t really matter. They’re all going to reek after this. 

“Come on Keith,” Shiro encourages and Keith straightens, falling into posture. Lances smile widens and he pulls water from the practice floor, using it to surround his own body. It’s not as strong as it had been two hours ago when they started this, but Keith’s fire isn’t as hot either as he summons it, his face a clear picture of the strain he’s under. 

With a gasp from Keith, the fire fizzles and sputters out. He slumps, hands moving to his waist where his fingers massage what might be a stitch in his side, “I can’t do it.”

“Yes you can Keith,” Shiro contradicts, “The whole point of this is to see the limit of your power. We’ve never tested this before, we need to know what we’re working with.”

Keith sighs and Lance smirks, “Look Samurai, think of this as your hall pass to beat this shit out of me. Let’s go! Your one and only opportunity.”

“I don’t want to hurt you Lance,” Keith frowns, chest heaving, “Although you are, in fact, irritating as all hell.”

“It’s a skill,” Lance sniffs and then without warning he throws a kick in Keith’s  direction. The black haired man easily dodges it with a “What the  _ fuck,  _ Lance!” and they’re at it again. Keith manages to get one fist ablaze, but it seems to take a lot out of him. He wavers on his feet, his focus shifting. Lance notices just in time and pulls back a punch he had aimed for Keith’s jaw as the other man falls to one knee, a hand clutching as his sternum. 

Lance freezes above Keith, his dark brown hair framing his face. His blue eyes are bright, the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced than usual from his extensive power use, “You good man?”

“Yeah I’m fine,” Keith pants, accepting Lance’s outstretched hand. Lance pulls him  to his feet, flinging his other hand to the side. Allura watches, intrigued, because she doesn’t understand why he threw in that bit of dramatic flair until she sees the glint of the ice knife that moves to press against Keith’s throat. 

It melts, a little, once it touches skin, but it draws just the hint of blood. Allura’s not sure if Keith has enough power to actually melt the knife before Lance does serious damage with it and her heart jumps into her throat. She’d thought the boys were getting along better now- they’d been training together frequently, Lance helping Keith out with power management strategies, and Keith teaching Lance some hand to hand combat. Maybe Lance is still holding a grudge?

“You’ve got some left, don’t you? What’re you, holding out on me?” Lance breathes, his face inches from Keith’s. Keith’s mouth twists from anger to fear back to rage and then his eyes blank and Allura knows what’s going to happen next. 

“Lance, no!” she shouts but it’s too late. Keith shoves Lance away from him with a yell, and then everything is bright and much, much warmer than before as Keith bursts into flame. His eyes are yellow again and Pidge turns to her in panic. 

“Wait, why is this happening? I thought this was just a reaction to the suppressants-”

“It’s… hard to explain,” Allura says, pulling her ponytail tighter, “I’ll get the dart gun. Everyone stay out of his way until I return!”

Shiro gives her a curt nod, looking upset, because of course he’s going to blame himself for this, but Lance shakes his head. He’s on the floor in front of Keith where he’d fallen after he’d been shoved but he seems to have recovered enough to push up on his elbows. 

“No!” Lance shouts, but his hand is outstretched toward Allura, not Keith, “No, you’re not going to ruin everything because of this. You’re not going to make him go through that again just because I fucked up. Do  _ not  _ get that dart gun.”

“Lance he  _ will kill you,”  _ Shiro asserts, “We need the dart gun.”

“No!” Lance insists and then he climbs to his feet, his attention directed toward Keith, “Keith buddy, you in there? We’re waiting for you out here. I’m sorry. I should have known better than to do that.”

Keith doesn’t seem to hear anything, his attention shifting from Lance to the  others in the room. Allura tenses, ready for the attack she’s sure is coming- she can probably launch him into the Astral Plane, Red will keep him safe there til he calms down enough to return. 

“Hey, look at me when I’m talking to you,” Lance says in a mild tone, one hand stretching out to snag Keith’s arm. Shiro steps forward like he can stop Lance from making contact despite their distance.

“You can’t touch him Lance!” Shiro warns, but Lance ignores him. His hand makes contact with Keith’s shoulder and a wave of steam wafts toward the ceiling. 

“Hey, Keith,” Lance continues, as if Shiro hadn’t spoken, “Remember a few weeks ago, when you and I were hanging out and I was telling you that story about Nyma and I?”

Keith doesn’t answer, but he hesitates, staring at Lance’s fingers. Allura notices, with a start, that his arm from the elbow down is encased in a thick layer of ice that constantly shifts and twists, strengthening and hardening with a glitter like diamonds. Considering how low Lance’s own power levels are, she’s surprised he’s managing this as well as he is. 

“You know the one, where we stole that G.A.L.R.A. cruiser?” Lance moves closer, and the ice slides up his arm to cover his chest, his other arm, part of his face, “I left part of the story out.”

Lance’s hand moves up Keith’s shoulder and to the back of his neck, “I was angry, put Nyma and I in a lot of danger but she managed to stop me from self-destructing. I keep making mistakes, and this time you were the one to suffer. I’m sorry, Keith. I know you’re in there, please come back.”

Keith’s still on fire, his eyes still vacant, but his mouth moves. Allura can’t make out what he says, but she can hear Lance’s response, “I can touch you because I’m your opposite Samurai. I had a lot of practice a few weeks ago, making my skin as cold as possible. Did it work?”

“Yes,” Keith sighs, and then, to Allura’s amazement, his body extinguishes. His eyelids flutter and then his irises return to their normal blue. Lance steps back, his cheeks flushing as he turns and sees everyone watching. Keith doesn’t make eye contact with anyone, just sinks to the floor, his fingers weaving into the dark strands of his hair. He’s whispering something, and Shiro rushes forward, falling to his knees next to his younger brother. 

“Keith? Keith! Hey,” Shiro says but Keith draws back from him, “Lance how did you-”

“I’m not really sure,” Lance mutters, standing above the two of them, “We talked, after… you know… and he asked me to stop him, if he ever lost control again. So I just… I did, I guess.”

“Not what I meant,” Keith groans and flops onto his back, “Not what I meant at all Lance and you  _ know  _ that’s not what I meant.”

“Are you sure?” Lance pretends to think, his index finger on his chin as he glances up and away, “I thought you meant ‘remind me of my own humanity so that I can regain myself before I hurt anyone’.”

“Lance,” Keith grunts, “You idiot.”

“Why is this happening?” Pidge interrupts, “This is a touching scene and all and I’m glad you and Lance have gotten over yourselves, but I thought Keith wouldn’t be having these little episodes anymore?”

“Those weren’t because of the suppressants,” Allura explains, “As far as I know, the suppressants were to try to prevent these, but as you know they weren’t always enough. Lance must have startled him enough with that knife trick that he retaliated by instinct alone.”

“Are we done?” Keith asks from the floor, one hand on his forehead, the other somewhere Allura can’t see. Something’s off, but she can’t put her finger on what. Lance’s cheeks are still red and Keith isn’t looking at him. Shiro seems to be just as confused as Allura, but she knows Keith, and she knows that he’s acting strangely. 

Maybe it’s just because after weeks of work he lost his shit again, or because he did it in front of the once person that usually handles it the least well. Who knows. 

When she checks his energy levels, they're low, dangerously so, and she nods. He lets out a huff, “Oh thank God. How do you all manage this all the time?”

“We sleep,” Lance offers a wry smile, “Alright let's get you up, need help getting to your room?”

Allura expects Keith to say no, but instead, he shakes his head  _ yes  _ and Lance pulls him to his feet, no tricks this time. He slings Keith’s arm around his shoulders and stands, wrapping one arm around Keith’s waist. Shiro hovers by, ready to assist, but then Coran pokes his head into the training room. 

“Allura, did you forget about the meeting you had with the three Sanctuary leaders? Shiro, you’re expected to be there too, as the leader of Voltron,” Coran frowns, energetically waving them toward his position, “You two need to get changed and get ready!”

Allura tears her gaze from the team, grateful for his reminder. They’ve been spending every morning training together, ending each session with efforts to assist Keith with his power and integrate it into the overall abilities of Voltron. It’s slow going, but they’re making progress. She forgets sometimes, that she has duties outside of the people in Arus, but Coran is always there to bring her back. 

“You got him?” Shiro asks Lance, who nods.

Keith, disgruntled, grumbles, “I’ve got myself.”

“Sure, Keith,” Lance rolls his eyes, hoisting Keith a little higher, “We’re good Shiro, go to your meeting.”

Allura meets her best friends eyes for a brief second, allowing her lips to quirk upward. They both slip through the exit of the room and into the hallway, trailing after Coran. 

“These are the biggest sanctuary towns that exist near Arus,” Coran explains while they walk, “We need them to be on board for creating a trading network, for maintaining open communication and hopefully fighting back against the G.A.L.R.A. in the near future.” 

“I know this, Coran,” Allura says, hoping her stress isn't conveyed in her tone, “We’ll do our best.”

“And I’m certain that will be enough,” Coran turns, clapping his hands together in front of his chest, “Alright! I’ll get the humvee ready, you two put on something less… sweaty. See you in a few ticks!”

Shiro’s smiling as Coran trots away, one hand on his hip. The other moves up to scratch at the patch of white hair at the front of his head as he says, “Something’s up with Lance and Keith.”

“You noticed too?” Allura frowns, “I can’t put my finger on what it could be, but they’re acting differently.”

“They’re… friendly. And not just pretending, Keith has hardly complained about Lance the past few weeks, and when I bring him up in conversation he becomes weirdly silent. I know he’s a quiet kid but-”

“He’s done the same around me. Do you…” she has a sudden thought, like a sparkler lighting up the night sky, “Shiro, do you think maybe he… likes Lance? I know it’s a far fetched thing to say, and Keith isn’t really the romantic type but-”

“Oh my god,” Shiro says, one hand coming up to cover his eyes, “Oh my god that’s totally it Allura.”

“Really?” She shrugs, “I mean, wouldn’t he tell you?”

“Not if he’s embarrassed about it. Knowing Keith he probably assumes this is just gonna go away. I knew they talked while Lance kept him alive through his withdrawal and they’ve been spending more time together, Keith probably thinks the second that the newfound friendship phase passes so will his feelings. Damn, he’s… he hated Lance for so long that I don’t even know what to do with this information.”

“Shiro, don’t get ahead of yourself. Who knows, maybe he’s just giving Lance a break for a few weeks as a thank you.”

Shiro takes a deep breath, meeting her eyes again. He’s laughing, his gray iris’s splashed with gold from the reflection of the fluorescent lights, “Yeah, yeah you’re right. This is  _ Keith  _ we’re talking about. I’m reading too much into it, probably. I’ll talk to him after this, see what’s up. It’s good, though, that we know Lance can pull him out of that place.”

The mirth is gone from Shiro’s expression and tone now, gone from Allura's too as she says, “I hate seeing him like that. Knowing that the G.A.L.R.A. did that to him, that he even  _ now  _ they’re still trying to ruin his life.”

“Allura, I hate it too, but…” Shiro unexpectedly pulls her into a hug. He smells like smoke and sweat from how closely he’d been working with Keith earlier, but she doesn’t mind, “He’s making progress. Somehow, Lance is helping him with that. They’re giving each other confidence. God I wish I had seen how good they could be for each other sooner, I would have forced them to become friends months ago.”

“You can’t force people to get along,” Allura informs his chest, “They had to get to it on their own. I don’t know if I trust this truce, but I’m not going to interfere.”

“Neither am I,” Shiro lets her go, pushing her gently toward her bedroom, “Get changed. I’m going to let the girls know where we’re going and take a shower.”

“Good idea,” she pinches her nose, waving one slender hand in front of her face, “You stink.”

He flips her off with his prosthetic hand and she grins, watching him go. Her heart is heavy despite the conversation they’d just had, despite the faith she knows Shiro has in her. She’s the leader of this coalition, the one bringing everyone together. Its her responsibility to make these treaties work, to keep everyone functioning together. Shiro’s there to show the might of Voltron, but she’s the one who will bring them into the future. 

She sighs, tugging at her top knot. Her mane of curls falls around her shoulders, trailing down almost to her waist, white locks that only service to remind her of her mother. 

Something presses against her leg, and Allura glances down, not surprised to see Rose twining around her feet. Somehow, Rose always knows when she was upset, when Allura needs comfort. The pink lion is more communicative than the others, she's discovering. Maybe because Rose had been with her since she was little, or because Allura’s mutation allows her a different kind of access to the power of the Astral Plane. 

Whatever the reason, Rose offers her a certain kind of comfort that only a close friend can, sending images and short memories of times when she’s succeeded before, when she doubted herself and came out the other end. It helps, it does, but she still understands a certain fundamental fact. 

If she fails, it isn’t just her livelihood, her drive to fight back against the G.A.L.R.A., her own life even, that will be forfeit. She has to do this to keep them all safe. To give them a life, a future. 

She pats Rose on the head, the earthly tones of her fingers contrasting with the glowing fur of her familiar. She draws strength from her companion. Breathes. 

Then steps into her room to put on something clean. 

 

_ Coran _

**Now:**

“Hey Coran!” Lance greets from the doorway, “How’re things?”

“Excellent, Sir Lance,” Coran says absently from where he’s attempting to fix the generator. Hunk next to him snorts out a laugh at the title, but Coran will go along with it for as long as Charlie does. 

“Not you too,” Lance throws his hands up in the air as he makes his way down the steps. He’s wearing a pair of joggers and a t-shirt that Coran hasn’t seen before with instructions on how to ‘pick up chicks’. Coran gives the joke a cursory chuckle. “Charlie decided I was going to be her knight in the last game we played and they made me fight Keith, who the dragon. She hasn’t stopped calling me her knight since Keith let me stuff him into the hall closet.”

“You and Keith played with Eliza and Charlotte?” Hunk sounds incredulous, “Wow.”

“Everyone else was gone, what were we supposed to do?”

“I heard Keith even did the flame effects for the dragon,” Coran comments and Hunk chokes. 

“That’s so cute,” Hunk croaks, smacking his own chest to free his airways, “Holy shit.”

“I didn’t come in here for this,” Lance sighs, his face curiously pink, “I was just wondering… do either of you guys know what month it is? Or day maybe? I used to keep track of time when I was with uh, Nyma, but things are a little crazier here.”

“Do you know what day it was when you came here?” Coran pulls away from the generator, covered in grease. Hunk holds out his hand, his fingers wriggling, and Coran places a wrench into it.

“No. I don’t really know how long I was with Lotor,” Lance admits, “But before you gave me that job, it was toward the end of August. It’s winter sometime, I’m guessing by how god damn cold it is but it would be nice to figure out-”

He cuts himself off and shrugs. Coran shares a glance with Hunk who seems to know what’s going on, despite Coran’s confusion. 

“Well, there was like a week after we got you and Shiro before we all trained together when I got back from Shay’s,” Hunk starts slowly, “And then like another two weeks of training after that before we did our first real mission, the one that Pidge got real hurt on.”

“Okay so three weeks,” Lance muses, “Keith and I uh fought like around that same time? There was a couple weeks after that where we didn’t talk and then the fire happened.”

“That was more than a couple weeks,” Coran snags a screwdriver off the small rolling platform next to him and Hunk, prying open the panel he needs to get behind, “I’d say at least a month. Probably month and half. I got through a whole workbook with the girls between your fight and the fire.”

“Are we marking time by Keith and I getting into arguments?” Lance grumbles and Hunk laughs. 

“Na that’s too often to make it worth it.”

“True,” Lance grudgingly admits, “So a month and a half? So we’re at like… two and a half months, so September, October, into November. Damn I missed Halloween! Ugh, whatever, whatever, it was like another week after that til Keith was off the suppressants and then it’s got to have been a month since then, at least.”

“At least,” Hunk agrees, and Lance frowns. 

“So… it’s either late December or early January?” Lance sits down heavily on the steps, his elbows on his knees, “Fuck, are you saying we missed Christmas?”

“Probably bud,” Hunk says around a mouthful of screws, “It sucks.”

“You don’t seem that upset about it,” Lance’s eyebrows almost kiss on the wrinkled skin of his forehead. Hunk pauses for a moment, setting down his equipment as he spins on his stool toward Lance. 

“I dunno, I’m not. I guess it’d be kind of weird celebrating without my moms, you know? And Shay.”

“We could bring them here,” Lance says, but Coran can tell by his tone that he knows it’s not possible, “We’ve gotta do  _ something  _ to celebrate the holidays.”

“If we’ve got time, sure,” Hunk doesn’t seem to concerned, “It’ll be fine Lance. Maybe we’ll have a break coming up and we’ll do something little.”

“Sure,” Lance mutters. He stands, hands in his pockets, the tan skin of his ankles showing between his joggers and his socks, “You two are busy, I’ll leave you to it. Thanks for the help.”

“No problem Lance,” Hunk says, eyes directed back toward his project already. Coran wants to follow the man out, to comfort him about something he’s obviously upset about, but if they don’t get this generator working, they won’t have the power to keep their food cold. 

Food comes first, but Coran hopes someone else finds Lance and offers him the consolation he needs. 

 

**Now** :

Coran had almost forgotten about his conversation with Lance until the man bursts into the training room the next morning wrapped in winter gear. It’s cold out, but not enough to warrant the thick scarf that nearly covers Lance’s pointed chin. 

“Alright everyone,” Lance announces, “It’s time for a break. If you’ll follow me, I have suitable cold gear ready for each of you.”

The rest of the team gives one another confused looks, no one moving toward Lance. Charlotte and Eliza peep out from behind him, their long black hair tucked up under hats as they beam at their parents. 

“Mama, come on!” Eliza pleads, “Uncle Lance got us a present for Christmas and he wants everyone to come see!”

“For… Christmas?” Shiro echoes, “We missed Christmas?”

“That we did, Shiro my good sir,” Lance says dramatically, “But if you follow me, as I instructed, we can have a good time for a few hours before you workaholics get back to training.”

Pidge meets Keith’s eyes, who’s shoulders rise and fall in the physical representation of ‘i dunno’ as he slides his knife back into it’s sheath. They’re all tired after the intense session that morning, but no one complains as they troop into the hallway. Each of them is given hats, scarves and gloves while the girls chatter excitedly, grilling Lance about what his gift might be. 

‘You’ll find out soon enough,” Lance scolds them gently, pulling his bright blue scarf higher and higher til his words are muffled, “Alright team, this way!”

Coran is perplexed as to where this is going, but he wanders after Lance anyway. He brings them to a side door, holding it open for each of them to walk through one by one, until they’re all standing outside, waiting for Lance to explain what’s going on. 

“Just a little further,” Lance says, bringing them out into what used to be the parking lot. He’s nearing the large crater that had been left there after the G.A.L.R.A. set off some particularly nasty bombs two years ago. Lance stops them at the edge, and when Coran glances down, he can see a layer of smooth ice along near the top instead of the steep drop off that's usually there. 

Lance jumps down onto the ice and starts handing something up to everyone. Coran can’t see what it is at first until Keith says in a strange voice, “Lance… did you make an ice rink?”

“I did!” Lance says proudly, “Took me a bit to find somewhere to steal these skates, but I think I got everyone’s sizes right. I remember you telling me that Charlie and Liza haven’t been ice skating before and I figured we could have some holiday fun for a few hours. Merry Christmas!”

“This is amazing,” Allura breathes next to Coran, and she’s biting her lip in that way that Coran knows means she’s trying not to cry, “Lance… we… we were all so stuck in ourselves we didn’t even think about the holidays and I… thank you.”

“We’re all busy,” Lance smiles up at her. He’s still standing in the crater, and he hands her a pair of soft pink skates that are exactly something Allura would love. She takes them from him with a little uptick in her lips and Lance’s hand lingers on her wrist. 

The moment’s over as Keith, arms crossed over his chest, a frown on his face, says, “There’s no way in hell you’re getting me on that.”

“Come on Uncle Keith!” Charlie whines, “You have to! I want you to show me how to skate!”

Uncertainty passes over Keith’s face but he shakes his head, “Charlie, you want your Dad to do that, don’t you?”

“No, he’s gonna help Liza,” Charlie says, her bottom lip pouting out just slightly as she fixes Keith with her look of stubborn pleading, “Please Uncle Keith!”

Shiro watches this exchange with amusement, while Allura sits on the edge of the pond, lacing her own shoes. She’s got Charlie’s leaning against her thigh, ready to take the younger girl if Keith won’t. Eliza has one skate on, letting her foot swing over the edge as Shiro ties on the other. 

“I don’t know how to skate,” Keith says helplessly, clearly loath to admit this fact in front of Lance, “I never learned. I can’t teach you.”

Charlie’s face falls, “Oh.”

“Charlie, love, why don’t I teach you? Uncle Keith can watch, huh?”

“Yeah! Yeah, Charlie, your mom can show you and I’ll cheer you on from the sidelines.” Keith exclaims, clearly relieved. 

  
“From the sidelines?” Lance lifts a pair of red and black skates from his pile on the ice, “Na. Leelee, how about this? Your mom teaches you, and I’ll teach your Uncle Keith, huh? And then maybe next time we do this, he can show you some cool tricks?”

Charlie’s smile returns, “Uncle Keith you’re going to skate too?”

“No, no,” Keith starts but when he catches Charlie’s expression he caves, “Fine. Lance will teach me. Carefully!”

“Of course, of course,” Lance bows with a cocky grin and Keith huff out some kind of curse that Coran hopes none of the girls overheard. Coran slips on his own skates with ease, remembering the last time he’d done anything like this. He’d taken Allura several times as a child, but it had to have been fifteen years since the last time they’d gone. 

Everyone struggles at first, except Lance and Allura. The space is plenty large for everyone to have room to navigate. Shiro holds both Eliza’s hands while she slips and slides around, murmuring encouragement the one time she wipes it and gets snow up her shirt. The first time Allura lets go of Charlie, she slides into the wall, but not before shrieking, “Look! Look! Papa, Uncle Keith I got it!”

She’s fine, but it causes a moment of panic when the team sees blood and an un-moving Charlie. Keith rips off one of his skates when he tries to make it over to her and can’t seem to get enough traction, but the little girl sits up with a giggle and a demonstration of the scrape on her hand that lets everyone relax again. 

“Put your skate back on,” Lance reprimands Keith, sounding out of breath, “I said I would teach you, stop running away.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to,” Keith says, leaning against the concrete as he reties his shoe, “Maybe I’d rather just not skate at all.”

“Dude, how did you never go ice skating? It was like… the only thing to do in the winter.”

  
“I lived in the desert the first part of my life,” Keith snaps, “No ice rinks.”

“You weren’t in the desert in high school! What, no charming boys to drag with you?” Lance teases. 

Keith hesitates then uses Lance’s shoulder to help him get steady once again on the ice, “I couldn’t be friends with the only one charming enough to take.”

“Why not?” Lance says seriously, “Wait,  _ you  _ had a crush in high school?”

“Not a crush, exactly,” Keith admits, stumbling a little as in his excitement Lance moves too quickly for Keith to keep up with, “Just someone I could have liked. Maybe. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I’ve never skated.”

“Shiro didn’t take you?”

“I didn’t meet him til I was too old to really take to places like that,” Keith mutters, “And my foster parents weren’t into paying for us to do things.”

“Oh,” Lance says quietly. He appears speechless for a moment, then he grabs Keith’s hand off his shoulder, and snags the other, “Well, no time like the present. Alright, so you’re gonna slide your right foot out,  _ no es como caminar, es como esquiar.” _

“Lance, I don’t know Spanish,” Keith says loudly enough for Charlie, who’s passing by, to hear. 

“Uncle Keith! Hi! Uncle Lance says something about not walking!”

“Good girl, Leelee!” Lance calls and gives Keith a sheepish smile, “I used to teach my little cousins how to skate, most of the phrases I’d use to help are in Spanish. It’s easier. I  _ was _ going to translate if you gave me the chance, but go off I guess.”

Keith sighs, gripping Lance hands harder as he slides around a corner, “Fine, what were you saying?”

“I said, it’s not like walking. It’s kind of like skiing, I guess, if you’ve ever done that. You’re going to push off with one foot and glide on the other.”

They move too far away to hear after that and Coran nearly gets bowled over by Eliza and Shiro who are moving haphazardly across the rink at a speed that Coran thinks probably won’t be any good. Sure enough, Eliza starts squealing something about trying to stop and Coran ends up catching her. 

“Sorry Coran,” Shiro says with a laugh and Eliza smiles up at him with those deep gray eyes that match Shiro’s, her black hair starting to fall out of her hat. 

Pidge and Hunk are down at the other end of the rink, talking about something totally not Christmas related as they trace a similar pattern back and forth next to each other. Coran thinks it's about how the new generator is functioning but he can’t be certain- those two never stop working, he swears. 

Allura zips by with Charlie in tow. The little girl's bright blue eyes are sparkling, their cerulean just a few shades lighter than Lance’s. Her hair is almost identical to Eliza’s, but slightly curly, her pale skin a contrast from her sister’s darker tones. Eliza looks like a mini Adam and Shiro conglomerate, something that’s both beautiful and razor sharp sometimes. Charlie though, only shares one of her father’s hair color. Eliza and Charlie can pass for sisters,  _ are  _ sisters, but it can be obvious at times that they’re not biologically related. 

Everything goes swimmingly. The ice rink is a huge hit. The girls are skating on their own at the end, and Keith manages to let go of Lance for at least twenty minutes at the end. It’s touching and wonderful and they all head back inside with pink cheeks and laughter that still hasn’t quite died on their lips. 


	19. Lotor: There Are No Happy Endings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've had a few people asking about Keith's chapters- don't worry! They will be here soon, but plot says Lotor comes first. Happy New Year!

_Lotor_

**Thirty Two Years Ago:**

He was a sickly child, he’s told. Always ill. He doesn’t know what he was sick with, exactly, except that it took several years and his father’s fortune to fix. His mother, too, was weakened by his birth, by the energy her pregnancy took. She was never the same after she had him. At least, that’s what his father says. 

He does remember her though. His mother. The way her hair, dark brown with gray streaks, was always braided. How she’d worn soft flowing robes she always let him cuddle in when he was afraid, when he wasn’t feeling well. She would tuck him in and give him his medicine and he felt safe, with her. He didn’t have to fear his father when she was around. 

 

**Twenty Seven Years Ago:**

She died. He was too young to know how or why except that she was gone. His mother. Her braided hair. Her soft flowing robes. Everything. 

His cousin visited, his aunt and uncle. His father refused to see them, but Uncle Alfor found him in the gardens. Told him he could come to him if there was ever anything he needed. He trusted that, trusted the steadfast look his Uncle gave him. He took the piece of paper with Aunt Melenor’s number on it and vowed he would never lose it. 

He wouldn’t lose it, not like he had lost his mother.

 

**Twenty Three Years Ago:**

He wasn’t allowed to go to school. He was nine, all the other children were going, and yet his father hired a nanny to come in and teach him everything that he might need to know. He asked, again and again to be with the other children, and again and again his father refused.  _ You are not like them,  _ his father snarled,  _ you are not a filthy mutant like they are.  _

He was, though. He didn’t know why his father hated mutants so much, but he’d heard rumors that his father had been one at one time. He didn’t know if it was true any longer. His mother, for sure, she had been powerful. She could open dimension gates, places that Lotor had wished to see as a child. He was never able to. His mother never had the strength to use her powers anymore after he was born. 

He didn’t understand why his father hated mutants, but he did understand that he was one. He had power, even if he didn’t know how to use it yet. He’d somehow blown up part of his classroom, set his bed sheets on fire and charred a bit of one of the rugs in the great room. Each time, there was a servant there to scold him, to take the blame, to punish him into silence. 

Mutant he may be, he knew he could never tell his father. He could never tell anyone. 

 

**Twenty Two Years Ago:**

His father found out. 

He couldn’t leave his bed for days after his father beat him that time. 

 

**Twenty One Years Ago:**

The experiments started that year. He knew his father had been associated with the G.A.L.R.A. for the past few years, knew he was taking money from them to do various jobs Lotor was never told about. Their network of underground labs was growing. 

His father made him come to them. Many of them. Over and over. Gave him a tour, stuck him in a chair and then they took his blood and ran vitals and sometimes, if he was unlucky, they would test something. He was told it was something to manage his power, something to help him stop being so  _ wrong,  _ but nothing ever worked. 

One of the days he was there, they left him alone in the lab. He slipped out of the seat, determined to do…  _ something.  _ Maybe he could run away. Maybe he could find his father, ask if he needed help. He couldn’t decide between the two options. 

Instead, he wandered, glancing into glass containers. There were rooms with observation windows, and he peeked in them all as he goes, wishing the newest test done hadn’t left the veins in left arm tingling. 

The last one he looked in, there was a little boy and girl, clinging to each other in the corner. They couldn’t be older than five or six, the girl possibly the elder of the two. The girl hid her face but the boy glanced up in surprise when Lotor appeared in the small slit of a window. 

“No, don’t take him anymore!” the girl pleaded, despite the fact that she was still hiding behind the boy, “Please, take me instead!”

The boy met Lotor’s gaze and shook his head just slightly. He contradicted the girl’s words without speaking, his deep gray blue eyes too solemn and serious for someone of his age. Lotor could feel his fingers almost unconsciously reaching for the door handle, but someone stopped him. 

When he glanced up, his father’s angry expression greeted him. There must have been some kind of fear on his face because his father’s fury softened slightly, “Leave them.”

“Who are they, father?” Lotor asked, refusing to budge. 

“Their mother was G.A.L.R.A.” his father said, staring down at the two children with cold contempt, “And she betrayed me. Luckily, her son has a mutation similar to yours. He’s proving useful in developing an antidote. Better to test them on some half-breed cur than you, my son. Come along Lotor.”

He wanted to argue. Wanted to have his father release them. But he was scared. Scared of his father, scared that his father’s words may become a threat. 

He left without a word. 

 

**Seventeen Years Ago:**

By the time he was fifteen, he had his power so far under lock and key that everyone assumed the few years he was out of control were nothing but a glitch. No one thought to question it, but he knew better, always did. He found ways to use it when his father wasn’t around, when there was no way for him to be caught. It wasn’t what he wanted from his life, but it was better than being beaten. 

He started visiting the lab where he originally found the boy and the girl more regularly. At first, it was by his father’s instruction, to watch over the lab, to ensure that things are running smoothly. He only saw the girl, by this time, a frail thing who didn’t look the eleven her chart read. Her mutation allowed her to shoot with deadly accuracy, to throw knives with much more force than normal. She controls projectiles, and while they kept her around as an additional power suppressant test subject, Lotor saw another use for her.

She became his first friend. He might be hers too. 

He asked her name, despite already knowing it, despite knowing everything about her. 

She answered anyway. 

“Acxa.”

 

**Fourteen Years Ago:**

He helped Acxa escape. It didn’t take much, but it was difficult to keep her a secret from his father. They added another to their crew only a few months in, a mutant named Ezor who had been cast aside by everyone she loved because she could turn invisible. No one wanted her. Lotor took her in, remade her, allowed her to be who she wanted in his presence. He had a team of two. He was eighteen. He thought he was invincible. 

He became reckless around his father. And inevitably, his father found out. Found out about Axca and Ezor. About the fact that he’d been trying to broker peace between mutants and humans for months, in his mother's name. It was slow going- leaders on either side were loathe to meet, but he thought maybe he was getting somewhere. 

And then his father destroyed everything. 

When it was done, when it was over, and he was picking glass out of his arm and Acxa was being treated in one of the labs that was still loyal to him, when Ezor finally reappeared three hours later, mostly unharmed, he’d called his Uncle. He had the number memorized by that point. He thought maybe, just maybe, the king of heroes could help him. 

“Hello?” 

It wasn’t Uncle Alfor who answered, it was… Allura? She sounded so much older than he remembered to be. She had to be, what, sixteen now?

“Allura? It’s Lotor. Please, can you give the phone to your father?”

“Why would I do that?” Allura asked, scathingly, “You and your father are trying to ruin  _ everything.  _ “

“That’s not me, cousin, I swear to it,” Lotor said hurriedly but Allura interrupted. 

“And why should I believe that?” she sounded furious, “Dad’s asleep right now, but you can try calling back later.”

She hung up. 

Lotor never called again. 

 

**Eleven Years Ago:**

He’d been banished from his father’s side for three years. It didn't matter to him. He was busy building his own family, making his own plans. He nursed Acxa back to health and she was loyal to him, as always. Ezor too, proved herself more than helpful in this cause. He' get back at his father. He refused to be afraid of him anymore. He was twenty one years old and it was time to make a name for himself. 

**Eight Years Ago:**

He began gathering the pieces of the puzzle. His father finally accepted him, had to accept him, back into the fold of the G.A.L.R.A. Lotor controlled too many labs for his father to do anything else. Hero work is illegal, the general public has turned against mutants and their families. His father is achieving everything he could ever want. 

Axca was gone, on a mission that Lotor let his father think was for the G.A.L.R.A. It was for him, really, it was all for him, but he missed her while she was away. 

It was alright though, because Lotor met Zethrid. She had been a hero, once, but had since been determined to be too violent, too aggressive. Her father had her locked up for years before Lotor found her and brought her back into the sunlight. It wasn't fair what he was doing to them, to these people, but Lotor knew he didn't have the support he needed, the backing. It would take time. He'd get there. A few years more, maybe. He just had to keep pretending. 

 

**Three Years Ago:**

He traveled far and wide, learning everything he could. His father didn't approve, not until Lotor returned with further knowledge on mutant kind, knowledge that would help him. Zarkon believed that Lotor was doing this for the good of the cause, but he didn't know. He didn’t know anything, actually. He joined up with Narti on his travels, a girl who was born blind but had insane skills of mind control. She could see through the eyes of others, and he immediately made her an offer she couldn't refuse. She didn't. 

His father began destroying mutant communities. 

Lotor stood by and watched. 

 

**Two and a Half Years Ago:**

He was on that stage when his Aunt and Uncle were killed. He watched as his cousin portaled herself away from that place and wished that he could go with her, that she would take him somewhere that was less violent, less red, less filled with the scent of iron and rust. 

She left him behind, again, and honestly he couldn’t blame her. 

 

**One and a Half Year Ago:**

A new team was formed, and Lotor thought that maybe this was his chance, that things could finally start working in his favor, but then their leader Takashi Shirogane was taken by his father and Lotor knows its over. Red, one of the mutants of the team, is vilified and Lotor can feel his chances slipping away like ice cream on a too hot July day. 

 

**Six Months Ago:**

He arranged for Coran to find that information. He arranged for Shiro and Lance to be in that same cell, for Red and the other paladins to find their companions there. He arranged it all. 

Voltron will be formed. And then, he’ll finally have his chance. 

 

**Now:**

He knows they won’t listen to him. He knows this like he knows his mother is dead and his father is an abusive bastard. If he strolls into Arus and asked them to listen, they never would. 

But he needs them to listen all the same. He needs them on his side. They  _ have  _ to listen to him, and for that, they need a different kind of plan. 

He’s going to take something of theirs. Someone to be more exact. Someone they will do anything to get back and then he can negotiate with them. He has other plans, plans he doesn’t want to use if he doesn’t have to, but he thinks this might be his only viable option at this point. 

He stares down from where he sits, ready to jump from the side of his helicopter. Ezor gives him a thumbs up and flips onto nothing but air. She’ll go down first and take care of the biggest threats. 

There will be a fight, Lotor’s sure of it, but he’s ready. 

He flexes his fingers. Checks his ammo pouch. Takes off the safety, then lets himself fall. 

He’s more ready for this than he might have been for anything else in his miserable life. 


	20. Lance: Riptide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright y'all, this is one of the chapters that earned this fic the M rating! If you would like to skip the smut, stop reading after the bolded word and start again after the underline sentence. There are two seperate spots where you should see this. You're not missing anything important plot wise!  
> Hope you enjoy! Thanks to everyone who commented, we reached over 100 comments and 300 kudos last chapter!! Thanks so much guys, I appreciate it so much! :D  
> I read over it so many times, but I'm sure there's still mistakes- lemme know if you spot any!

_Lance_

**Now:**

His back is to the wall. He knows it’s not a sturdy surface, knows they’re going to knock something over if Keith keeps pressing into him the way he is, but he can’t bring himself to tell the man to move away. 

It’s not like he has the oxygen to do so. Keith’s mouth is on his and he can’t breathe. There’s the catch of teeth on his bottom lip and he shudders, his hands in Keith’s hair. He tugs, just a little and Keith sucks in a quick breath, returning to Lance’s with crushing force. 

Everything’s distant except Keith’s face as he pulls back, only inches from Lance. His eyes are dark, swirling voids that contain too many emotions for Lance to read at once. There’s happiness, fear, affection, lust, definitely-

“My bedroom or yours?”

 

**Two and a Half Months Ago:**

“I’m riding with… you,” Lance said. He meant it to be a question, but it came out sounding more alarmed than anything. 

“Look, Shiro hasn’t done this in a while. I think it’d just be safer if you rode with me. He’d be totally fine with it if you wanted to go with him instead,” Keith shrugged, nonchalant, but something about him seemed tense, “I want to thank you, though, and it’s hard to do if you’re dead.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Lance immediately returned. Keith shrugged again. 

“Up to you.”

“What’re you two taking so long for?” Shiro yelled as he starts his bike, “Let’s go!”

“Jesus Christ,” Lance muttered. He’d come this far, he might as well go a step further. The cracked concrete under his feet took no time at all to cross, unfortunately, and he found himself staring down at Keith while he slipped his bright red helmet on overtop of his long hair. Keith glanced up at him, at Lance, and there was an excited grin there, a bit of emotion that Lance found himself drawn to. Keith handed him his helmet, a pink monstrosity that Lance assumed was Allura’s. It fit, though, and he slid the visor down with only slight awkwardness. He was sitting behind Keith before he let himself think about it too much. 

“You’re going to want to hold on,” Keith said with no small amount of amusement and Lance sighed, a soft sound only he heard as he allowed his body to scoot forward the required distance. His thighs were flush with Keith’s and he grudgingly wrapped his arms around Keith’s torso. Keith flicked the ignition switch, stretching forward, and Lance stretched with him, feeling the pull and flex of muscle through Keith’s shirt. 

“You ready?” Keith asked. Lance made some kind of noise to the affirmative and Keith took off. 

It was like nothing Lance had ever experienced before. The wind slapped at every inch of exposed skin and he felt seconds from falling off each time they turned but there was something exhilarating, something wonderful about going  _ this  _ fast. 

They were in that part of the morning, the quiet part, where the sky was just starting to  turn gray and blue at the edges. There was enough light to see by, just barely, and more than once Lance worried they were going to crash into some unseen debris. Keith obviously knew what he was doing. He kept his bike steady, checking on Lance periodically to make sure he was still on board. 

Lance watched as the sun rose, as the stars disappeared and the world around them became washed in light. Vines become visible, growing on abandoned buildings and sculptures random street artists made from broken stone. The words ‘Voltron has returned’ scrawled in spray paint on one of the crosswalks. 

He relaxed, little by little, the longer they rode. Lance wasn’t sure how long they’d been out there for, but his hand started to cramp and he couldn’t feel his toes anymore by the time they finally stopped. 

“We’re here,” Keith said softly. 

They were. 

Lance sat, frozen in his seat, watching the sunrise over a massive canyon. The river far down below could somehow still be heard, bubbling its way south. The bridge spanning it had fallen, years ago if the rust and plants growing through its surface were any indication, but the image of the sun settling on one of the bridges former high points is something that will stay with Lance forever. 

“It’s beautiful,” Lance breathed. 

The sun bled through the crisscrossing wires of the bridge, creating an odd pattern on Keith’s face as he turned toward Lance. Lance wasn’t sure he was talking about Keith or about the sunrise but either way he felt almost… speechless for once. 

“Thank you, Lance,” Keith murmured and Lance might have been imagining it but was  he leaning into Lance’s touch? “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be alive to see things like this anymore.”

“You’re welcome,” Lance croaked. His throat was dry, suddenly. So dry. Where was water when you needed it?

“Lance,” Keith said suddenly and there was urgency in his voice, “Lance, I need you to  promise me something.”

His voice had shifted from a trickling stream in the middle of the forest to a roaring waterfall rushing to reach the bottom and Lance blinked, “Yeah?”

“If I… If I ever lose control like I did that first day we met again, I want you to take care of it, okay? Don’t let me hurt anyone.”

“No,” Lance heard himself saying, “No, you can’t ask me to do that.”

“I thought… I thought you of all people would know why you have to, why I’m asking you.”

_ I’m not the person you think I am.  _ The thought floated across his brain, became almost visible to his tired eyes because he realized with a shock that it was true, it was so true and it hurt him to know that Keith still thought Lance disliked him. He couldn’t. Not after everything. He’d been mad for so long, too long, and any anger was just the leftovers of not knowing who, exactly, the man is in front of him. As he stared at that sunrise, at the bleeding colors and brightening clouds, he let it go. He’d learn about Keith. He vowed to, in that moment. He’d find out everything Keith let him until there was nothing to be mad about. He owes that to Keith, and moreso, the team. 

“Keith, I… I don’t hate you,” Lance said. His voice broke on one of the words but he didn’t pause to analyze which one, “I like you. Could like you. As a good friend.”

He tried to recover, because he didn’t like the way the first one sounded, but Keith just snorted and adjusted his helmet. 

“And I like you too Lance. Maybe that’s why I’m trusting you with this. The others… Shiro can’t- won’t- ugh, you’re the only one who might be able to do it. Even if you don’t hate me. Even if you like me.”

_ Trusting you with this.  _ He could see himself repeating that phrase to the rest of the team, could see himself explaining why he’d murdered Keith. He wanted to say no, wanted to refuse the man in front of him, but there was this look on Keith’s face. He  _ knew  _ what Lance was thinking, knew the confusion and frustration it was causing him and he’d asked anyway. The words seemed to stick in Lance’s brain,  _ trusting you with this, _ seemed to burrow their way in until he couldn’t rid himself of them, “Okay. I’ll do it. I promise.”

“Thank you,” Keith said, and there was a world of relief in those two words. His hand shifted back up to the handlebars, “Thank you.”

Lance, trying to recover, said in a voice he hoped wasn’t nasally, “So uh, where to next?”

Keith’s gaze redirected toward the canyon floor and Lance felt his stomach rise into his throat, “Wait, you don’t mean… down there?”

“I absolutely do,” Keith confirmed, pulling Lance’s arms around his waist once again, “Better hang on tight Aquaman.”

 

**Two Months Ago:**

He was still surprised that he managed to pull Keith out of… whatever he’d been in. A coma? Trance? Stupor? Lance doubted even Keith himself knew. He’d been worried, so worried he was going to have to follow through on his promise but then he’d started talking and Keith had started responding and it was still baffling to Lance. God he’d been... He’d thought, Jesus, he’d thought he’d have to hurt Keith, at the very least. It left him rattled and shaken and he wasn’t quite sure how to process it. Or even if he should process it. Better to shove it down and pretend like he wasn’t terrified of Keith. No. That wasn’t true. Not terrified  _ of  _ him, not anymore. Terrified  _ for  _ him?

But now he was carrying Keith. Back to his room. After talking about stuff he didn’t really want to talk about in front of the team. He refused to regret it though, because he was pretty sure it was the only thing that had brought Keith back. 

Except… if Keith remembered his whole talk about Nyma, did he remember the kiss? Did he remember Lance making a total fool out of himself? He’d been assuming that Keith remembered basically nothing about that time, and Keith hadn’t said anything to contradict that. 

“Keith,” he said slowly, once they were outside the other man’s room, “Do you want me to like, drop you here, or bring you inside?”

Keith had been quiet the whole way, but at Lance’s words he straightened, darting his deep blue eyes in Lance’s direction, “I can get in on my own. It’s fine.”

“I don’t mind,” Lance argued, but Keith pulled away from him, swaying through the curtained entrance of his room. He was immediately out of sight but then Lance, seized by a momentary impulse, couldn’t help but knock, “Keith are you sure you’re okay?”

“You can just come in Lance,” Keith grunted. Lance bit his lip, uncertain, but what was he supposed to say?  _ Nevermind? _

“Sure,” Lance hesitated, again, before stepping into Keith’s room, not surprised to find the man face first on his bed. It was just a mattress on the floor, but then again so was everyone else's, “You’re good?”

“Yes,” came the muffled response, “If you don’t have anything important to ask, then can you let me sleep?”

Lance would be offended. Should be offended. But he’d been tired after these training sessions too, been in Keith’s exact shoes probably two days previous and he got it. He moved to leave, then stopped himself. He had to ask. 

“I do,” Lance started, hating himself, hating this situation, “Have a question that is.”

“Ask.”

“Do you uh. What do you remember about a few weeks ago, when you were going through withdrawal? You were pretty out of it, so I wasn’t sure what you knew we talked about or not and then today, my reminder of the story worked so I wasn’t sure if you remembered more than I thought you do-”

“Lance sit down,” Keith grumbled, turning on his side, “Your pacing is giving me anxiety. I don’t remember a lot.”

“Okay,” Lance let out a long breath, plopping down on one side of the mattress, near Keith’s feet. He was going to do it. He had to do it. His conscience wouldn’t let him  _ not  _  do it,  “Okay I just, I’ve got to come clean. I… kissed you, while you were pretty out of it and I feel really guilty-”

“I do remember that, yeah,” Keith interrupted, without any inflection in his tone, “Confused me, because you’re straight.”

“I’m not,” Lance blurted, his hands slowly creeping up to cover his face. Is it suddenly warm in this room? “I’m not straight, but I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I’m sorry for calling you homophobic, then,” Keith’s words are once again obscured by the fact that his face was pressed into the pillow, “Not the first guy who I thought I knew to be straight to kiss me.”

“Oh,” Lance said, because he really wasn’t sure how to acknowledge that, or the fact that Keith hadn’t even blinked at his announcement of his sexuality, “I want you to know that I’m sorry and I didn’t mean to. I’m not afraid to admit that I think you’re attractive but it wasn’t fair to you to do that without your consent.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Keith kicked him in the back with his foot, but his tone was light, “It wasn’t, but I’m not mad. I’ve done a lot of really shitty things to you in the past to feel guilty about, so if this is your thing then we’re definitely still not even close to being even. You can forget about it now, it’s all good.”

“Keith-” he started to say, started to explain that he didn’t  _ want  _ to forget about it, he  _ couldn’t  _ forget about it, as a matter of fact, but Keith stopped him. 

“Next time you want to kiss me, just make sure it’s when I’m awake, ‘k?” Keith mumbled and then, to Lance’s horror, he fell asleep. 

“Oh my god,” Lance whispered as he aimed any and all rude hand gestures at Keith’s sleeping form, “Oh my god. Why do you do this? We have an important, life changing conversation and then you-you just… fall asleep! How do I know you’re even going to remember  _ this?  _ Fuck!”

 

**A Month and a Half Ago:**

Keith, of course, makes no mention of the conversation the next morning. 

He didn’t mention it in the afternoon either. 

He didn’t mention it the next day. 

Or the next. 

Or the next. 

But they do talk about other things. They talked about the year Keith tried to go to college, about how that went nowhere. Lance told him about getting his degree, about his frustration having nothing to use his degree for. How there was this party he’d been really looking forward to working on, at the local ice skating rink, but it had never gone anywhere. He’d been removed from the project even before it started. Keith shook his head, and said, “Ya know, Eliza and Charlotte have never been ice skating. I want to take them someday. I know it’s kind of dumb but… whatever. Ice skating? In this economy?”

Lance laughed and they talked about happier things for a while, like how training had been going, the ridiculous game the girls insisted on playing with the two of them whenever they were around, Coran’s moustache that needed a shave. 

They weren’t often alone, but neither avoided it anymore. Lance, for one actually enjoyed their time. He couldn’t tell if Keith did, but he thought, maybe, yes, the other man might be seeking him out for conversation much more often than he used to. 

He had an idea, then, that maybe he can do something for Keith. For all of them really, but for it to work, for it to not be as horrible and cheesy as he feared it would be, he needed to know the date. 

Once he knew it, it was like a punch in the gut. It was frustrating, realizing how much of normal life he was missing. The feeling was… strange, because when he was with Nyma, none of it mattered. Somehow, here with these people, he cared. He cared a lot. So he did something about it. 

He made the ice rink. He’d hoped that Keith and the girls could have that time that Keith talked about however many days ago. Little did he know that Keith himself couldn’t even ice skate, but hey, you couldn’t blame a man for trying. 

Naturally, he volunteered to teach Keith himself.

He wasn’t holding Keith’s hands, not really. They were both covered in layers of gloves and everything was too business oriented for it to really mean much but Lance couldn’t help the way his heart flipped when Keith gripped him tighter for balance. Their fingers laced together and he really hoped no one could see his cheeks through the thick scarf he had on because he was definitely as red as a tomato. Everyone had a great time, the girls learned to skate and Lance’s stomach tightened almost to the point of pain when he watched Charlie show Keith how to skate backward.

He was really doing okay until Keith stumbled and fell and Lance caught him, right there on the ice. They paused there, Lance’s hand on Keith’s back and the other in mid air, Keith’s death grip around his wrist to keep himself steady. Keith’s eyes were wide, his mouth opened into a small “o” of surprise and Lance swore he could see every eyelash. There were flecks of snow on Keith’s nose, his forehead, in a few of the messy strands of his hair and Lance almost kissed him right then, memory of previous kisses be damned. 

But then Hunk said something about heading in because it was cold and Keith found his own feet. He shoved away from Lance with a muttered, “Sorry. Thanks for the lesson.”

Lance wanted to scream. 

 

**Two Weeks Ago:**

He hardly saw Keith after the ice skating incident. Hunk listened to him complain about it for hours, the poor man, until finally he was banished. Hunk had to spend quality time with his girlfriend, Lance understood that, but damn it he had no one else to talk to about this. 

He was tempted, for about half a second, to talk to Shiro about it, but there was no way that could be a good idea. Ever. Oh god. 

Keith spent almost the whole two weeks in a sanctuary town a few hours away, prepping them for impending G.A.L.R.A. attack. When he came back, there was a new scar on his left hand and Lance commented on it in the kitchen. When they were alone. No, he wasn’t desperate for conversation, okay?

“One of them recognized me. He saw… something that made him think I’m associated with the G.A.L.R.A. and decided a knife in my hand would be a great new piercing,” Keith said. He was emotionless. Wry. Not angry, but tired. 

“Keith that’s…” Lance frowned. He wanted to ask for more information, wanted to be angry and rage and threaten to beat whoever did this to Keith into a bloody pulp, but somehow he thought that might not be welcome. Keith could get all that from Shiro, from any of the others. Why was he here with Lance, then? “Fucked. Scar looks cool though. Rugged.”

“That’s the effect I’m going for,” Keith lifted his hand off the table and Lance leaned in for a better look. 

“Damn, guy must know his knives. Got you good,” Lance commented absently. It really did look nasty, but it was healed now. It wasn’t the wound Lance was worried about, “Well, there’s nothing for it!”

“Nothing for… what?” Keith raised an eyebrow and Lance grinned. 

“I think the deal is, you get stabbed, you’ve earned at least two shots of whatever alcohol you want. Maybe three, if we’re in a generous mood.”

Keith smiled. It was like the sun breaking through a cloudy day, like the sky parting after rainfall to reveal a rainbow. Lance drank it in. He never could get enough of the sun’s rays in the winter. 

 

**An Hour Ago:**

For weeks now, they’d been dancing around one another. Conversations had been getting heavier and heavier, about topics that Lance thought neither of them would dare bring up to the others, except maybe Shiro. Doubts about the future, worries for the team. Things that Lance couldn’t believe he was being told sometimes until he realized that he was feeling the same way. 

He and Keith were alike in a lot of ways, he was coming to figure out. They were both quick to anger, despite showing it differently. They were both protective of their family. They had both lost too much. They both doubted themselves, although that too bubbled to the surface in opposite areas. There were similar emotions running under the surface of their opposite behaviors, and it kind of blew Lance’s mind when he started to think about it too much. 

There was a lot of conversation. There was a lot of touching too. 

He almost didn’t notice at first. The way Keith brushed against him in the morning when he was reaching for the coffee, the way his leg would settle next to Lance’s when they had their weekly movie marathon. The lingering fingers against his inner arm when Keith helped him up after a sparring match. 

But he did. Notice, that was. He noticed. How could he not? Keith’s touch was like fire on the icy surface of Lance’s exterior and he could feel himself melt just a little bit more each time they made contact. So he started returning the touches. “Accidentally” putting his hand on Keith’s to get the cereal box. Not moving out of the way when they were passing one another in tight quarters. Stepping closer than necessary during training, straddling Keith during grappling sessions. And, of course, his latest move, his boldest yet, which involved Keith with one leg on either side of his waist. He was  _ supposed  _ to be trying out one of the new arm bars Shiro taught them earlier that day, but instead, he reached up and around to snag a handful of Keith’s ass. 

Keith froze, his eyes slowly tracked a line from the wall in front of him to Lance’s face and then he said in the lowest, most controlled voice Lance thought he might have ever heard the man use, “You sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?”

Lance used his surprise against him, flipping their positions with an ease he knew he wouldn’t have been able to manage if Keith hadn’t let him, “Damn sure, Cowboy.”

“Oh god, never call me that again,” Keith laughed and the moment was over, “Please. Holy shit.”

“What? I thought it fit! You Texas ass motherfucker, if you’re not a cowboy-”

“I lived there for like six years Lance,” Keith wheezed, “Just. Get off me. I don’t even have an accent! Cowboy? What the fuck, that’s so rich.”

“Keith! Lance! How’s it going?” Shiro called sharply from the other side of the room and they both immediately climb to their feet. 

“Just peachy, Shiro,” Keith answered, his face still red. Whether it was from laughter or something else, Lance couldn’t tell. 

It turned out, it didn’t matter. 

 

**Now:**

It doesn’t matter, because it leads to this moment. This moment where Keith has him flush against the wall outside the training room. They’d stayed long after the rest of the team left, waiting until everyone was gone until Keith had crossed the room in like two entire steps and asked, “Do you, in fact, like me as more than a friend.”

“Yes,” Lance had said, because what the fuck else was he supposed to say and then Keith was kissing him, lifting him, moving him. They’re out in the hallway now, though Lance can’t exactly remember how they got here. He has a dim recollection of Keith picking him up and carrying him through the doorway. He never thought he’d find something like that attractive but the heat in his gut intensifies as he remembers it. 

He asks the question, “Your bedroom or mine?” and instead of an answer, gets:

“You’re not straight,” Keith pulls away, confirming yet again, “I just. Really?”

“Fucking hell Keith,” Lance groans, grabbing the other man’s face and pressing long lingering kisses along his jaw, “I’m not straight!”

“Mine then,” Keith slides his hand up the inside of Lance’s thigh and Lance breathes some kind of sound into the corner of Keith’s mouth he should be embarrassed of but isn’t, somehow, “It’s further from the others.”

“Smart, smart,” It slips his mind for a second that they’re actually going to have to walk there. Together. Which means he’s going to have to stop kissing Keith for more than a few seconds. 

They somehow make it to Keith’s bedroom, but not much further than that. Keith’s got him back against the wall almost as soon as they’re in privacy. His hands explore under Lance’s shirt, tracing each of the ribs that he finds there. They’re not pronounced, Lance knows they’re not, but Keith finds them all the same. 

“You like to top or bottom?” Keith murmurs against his neck and Lance’s mind blanks. He forgets, somehow, that he’s never done this before. 

“I… don’t know?” Lance pants. His lungs feel like he’s just run a marathon, not been making out. 

“You don’t-” Keith once again, steps back so that he can see Lance’s face, “Holy shit you’ve never done this before.”

Damn. It’s like the man reads his mind.

“I have not,” Lance says casually, “But I have, in fact, had sex with lots and lots of women?”

“Lance that isn’t the same and you know that!” Keith sounds frustrated and Lance tries not to be hurt by that fact. 

“Look, I’m sorry I’m not as experienced as you are-”

“No, no that came out wrong,” Keith sighs, running one hand through his hair as he looks from Lance to the floor and back again, “I don’t want to do anything that you don’t want to do, you know? And how do you know what you don’t want if you haven’t done anything?”

It takes his brain a second to translate that and then-  _ Oh.  _ Keith is nervous. He’s worried Lance won’t enjoy himself? Worried that if Lance doesn’t it will ruin things, maybe?

“We’ll figure it out as we go. What’d you usually do?”

“I uh,” Keith visibly swallows, “I mean, I usually top but I don’t want to- Lance this is your first time with another guy I’m not going to just do what I usually do.”

“What do you usually do?” Lance asks, curious, still leaning against the wall. His dick is not pleased with the conversation versus full body contact, but he ignores it for the moment. 

“I’m not a dating kind of person,” Keith offers, “So I dunno, there’s no romancing, we just kinda go with whatever we’re feeling like? I top, sometimes, I don’t have to, it’s fine, really, either way, I just want this to not be weird for you. We don’t even need to like… go there. We can do other stuff if you’d rather. Start slow.”

“What kind of other stuff?” Lance questions, his interest piqued. 

“Uh,” Keith’s clearly uncomfortable with talking about sex, weirdly enough, but he bravely continues forward anyway, “Handjobs, oral sex I dunno, that kind of stuff.”

“I am not opposed to any of that,” Lance agrees breezily. Honestly he's not much of one to worry about the schematics of the situation. He just wants to put his hands on Keith again and explore every inch of what’s under that clothing. This is new for him, true, but he’s had a few months to adjust, a few months of wanting and frustrated hours alone.  

“Lance, if we’re doing this-”

“Keith, we  _ are  _ doing this I swear to God.”

“-Then what are we?”

“Can’t we figure that out after? Damn. I dunno. It's just sex right now,” Lance groans, pressing his head back into the wall in frustration, “There don't have to be any strings attached.”

“Good,” Keith breathes into Lance's personal space, his hands coming up to grip Lance's hips tightly enough to bruise and it's  _**stellar**.  _

“Good,” Lance repeats, but it’s more of a gasp than Keith’s was because Keith got ahold of one of his nipples and it’s really,  _ really  _ odd to have someone else paying him this much attention. When he’d had sex in the past, it was all about giving the women a good time- he could find his own pleasure. But this… this was nice too. Excellent, actually. 

Keith’s hands are testing, exploring, and it’s all Lance can do to cling to the shifting  muscles of his back. He stiffens when Keith’s hands dip below his waistband and the other man’s thigh slots between his legs to press against the bulge in the front of his joggers. Keith, apparently noticing just how painfully hard he’s caused Lance to be, leans in closer.

“Lance McClain,” he whispers in Lance’s ear. His warm breath tickles Lance’s earlobe and he shivers. He finds that he loves it when Keith says his name like this, “That’s really gay.”

Lance slaps him lightly on his cheek, unable to stop himself from laughing, “Take off these fuckin pants and you’ll see just how gay I am.”

“Is that a challenge?” Keith says, his voice husky.His thumbs are rubbing circles into Lance’s hip bones and he wants all his clothes removed  _ now. _

Lance deliberately unbuckles his belt. Keith does the rest of the work for him, shoving his jeans down his hips, his thighs, down around his ankles. Lance kicks them off, waiting for Keith to return to his ministrations, but there’s a pause before Keith asks, “Anything I should know about?”

“No,” Lance responds, “Coran informed me of that the first night I was here, to my eternal shock.”

“Helpful, that Coran,” Keith grins and begins tying his hair back. He’s still on his knees and it takes Lance way longer than it should to realize what’s about to happen, “Clean bill of health myself. Checkin in again though, you good?”

“Yes,” Lance wants to kick him but deep down, where the less horny and more rational part of him resides, he’s glad Keith’s being so chill about this whole thing. He’s scared and yet not, because this is both totally natural and a whole new world at the same time. 

“Tell me if you’re ever not,” Keith says and Lance almost has a heart attack because Keith’s hair is in a  _ motherfucking bun.  _ A  man bun. It’s just a loop in the back of his head but somehow it brings Keith another impossible step higher on the attractiveness scale. And then Keith sits up and runs his fingers up Lance’s calves, his thighs, and Lance is really really glad that when he changed after training he went commando because Keith’s hands have easy access to his cock. Keith’s long fingers trace light circles around his abdomen before trailing around the base of his dick, carefully sliding along the length of it until his thumb presses gently against the head. Lance shudders and his eyes close. He scrabbles against the wall behind him to no avail. He’s going to need something to hold onto. He can sense it. 

“Lance?” Keith whispers and oh god he’s close enough that Lance can feel his lips brush against his cock. 

“I’m good, I’m  _ ho god _ ,” Lance groans as Keith fucking  _ licks  _ from base to tip and then closes his lips around the head. His tongue performs some kind of magic acrobatics maneuver that Lance didn’t even know was possible. Lance’s knees feel weak. 

Luckily, Keith’s thought of that, because he uses both hands to clutch at Lance’s hips, propping him upright. He’s slow, careful at first, and then less so. The first time he deep throats him, Lance almost loses his shit. It’s been a while. A long time, actually, but damn it he needs to keep it together better than this. He’s making soft noises that emerge from his lungs like he’s kept them hidden there and Keith finally sets them free. 

Keith starts to build a rhythm, switching between the lovely warmth of his tongue and the press of his lips, letting Lance teeter on the edge before bringing him down again, over and over until it’s too much and Lance feels the pressure, the stars behind his eyes, the shake in his breath, his fingers, his entire body. He has time to say, “Keith-”

Then it ripples through him. His shoulders tense, his abdomen flexes, his hips jut forward but Keith’s ready for it apparently because he takes it all in stride. Lance doesn’t realize until after his mind returns to his body that Keith’s leaning back on his heels, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He smiles up at Lance and says with quirk of one eyebrow, “Enjoy yourself?”

“I…” Lance tries to remember how to correctly form sentences, “Yes? Did you just like… swallow that? All?”

Keith shrugs, “Not my first rodeo.”

“You  _ are  _ a fucking  _ cowboy,”  _ Lance retorts, and Keith laughs, standing suddenly and wrapping his arms around Lance’s waist. He picks him up, pantless, and tosses him onto his bed, before he comes in low, peppering kisses from Lance’s stomach all the way to his cheek. 

As he goes, he says, “Not. A. Fucking. Cowboy. Never was and never will be.”

“Sure Samurai.” When there’s no snappy retort for that, Lance snorts, “Oh, you’ll  accept the sword reference but not the horse riding one?” 

“Don’t ride horses,” Keith says, pushing to his feet, “Only hot men. Stay there.”

“Where are you going?”

“To brush my teeth,” Keith calls from the bathroom. 

Lance hesitates then shrugs and asks, “What does it taste like?”

There's the sound of a toothbrush and someone spitting then, “Not great. And I doubt you would appreciate me kissing you with breath like that.”

“I wouldn't know,” Lance comments. He slides his shirt off, letting it fall the floor where it lays in a crumpled heap. He might as well be naked now that the pants are off. 

“Trust me then,” Keith assures him, stepping back into the room. He plops onto the bed with a bounce and Lance sees that Keith, sadly, is still fully clothed. 

Intending to remedy this, he slides up behind the man, his fingers playing around the hem of his black t-shirt. Keith doesn’t respond like Lance expects him to. Instead of moving into Lance’s touch, encouraging what Lance hopes to be a continuation of their sexual encounter, Keith slides almost off the bed and turns to face him. There’s a look on his face, something Lance can’t figure out for a moment, but then it comes to him. 

Keith’s expression is hesitant, worried, but not barred off. Not quite vulnerable but there’s no walls up either. He seems to be saying,  _ if this comes off, there will be conversations about more than sex.  _ Lance can’t figure out if that’s something Keith wants or not or if he’s just trying to warn Lance, but this is a crucial moment. A moment where Lance has a choice. 

He can leave Keith’s shirt on, proceed with this encounter in whatever way Keith will let him and have this be something to appease his horny side, nothing more. Or. 

Or he can push this, he can see where this goes, he can wade out into dangerous waters and hope he doesn’t get dragged down by the riptide. 

He takes a breath. Then another. 

With Nyma, he think he would have left this alone. Let her have her life and he would keep his. 

With Keith…? Well, he’s always been good with water.

He reaches forward, again, fingers firm and steady and says, “Is it okay if I help you out of this?”

Keith tilts his head, looking almost surprised. His dark eyes search Lance’s face for three slow heartbeats and then he nods, letting Lance slide his hands under the black fabric, tugging it higher and higher. He shifts and moves when appropriate, allowing Lance to maneuver it over his broad shoulders, his head, his hair fluffing back into place once Lance has got the soft fabric balled up in his fist. 

There’s a lot of scars. There’s some on Keith’s arms, enough that Lance expected this. Lance has his share of thick corded tissue on his chest and back and stomach as well, and he can’t imagine that this is what Keith could have been hiding. 

There are tattoos too, a spider with a shape that Lance vaguely recognizes from somewhere on his hip, a constellation on his ribcage that Lance doesn’t know, and then a symbol on his shoulder, just underneath his collarbone a symbol Lance  _ does _ knows-

_ It was on the sides of all of the trucks and humvee’s that were parked along the streets in his families complex, on the chest plates and weapons of all the soldiers. It was the symbol that left no way to mistake who was responsible for this atrocity, who caused all this death and destruction and fire- _

“Why do you have the G.A.L.R.A. symbol on your shoulder?” Lance asks, surprised at how steady and calm his voice sounds. He sounds almost normal. Not at all like he feels. 

Keith’s exhale is long and slow. His lips purse. He leans back a little and the light forms a triangle across his cheek, a line on his nose. Black hair hides part of his face, but he scoops it with one hand, tucking it behind his ear before he says, “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got nowhere to be,” His voice is hard and a little angry but Keith doesn’t react to his tone. 

“I used to be part of the G.A.L.R.A.,” He doesn’t sugar coat it or tie it with a bow and Lance wonders if Keith  _ wants  _ Lance to be angry with him, “When I was younger, my father… died, and they came and took me from our home. I lived in a G.A.L.R.A. facility for a long time, Lance and they gave me this to remind me of who I was. I got out, eventually.”

Lance doesn’t say anything.

“I used to want it gone,” Keith says, softer now. Lance’s attention is drawn back to the symbol, and he realizes with a start that there’s two long gashes of scar tissue through it, like someone had drawn an X with a knife, “But it reminds me of what the G.A.L.R.A. took from me, from everyone and why I have to do something to stop them. It’s a part of me, who I am and I know… I know you probably want to leave, I’m not going to stop you-”

“I’m not leaving,” Lance interrupts, sitting up straighter. Why does Keith think he wants to leave? “Keith, I’m not going anywhere, I… needed to know. And I do. And it wasn’t your fault. At least, that’s not what it sounds like. Did you want to live there? In the G.A.L.R.A. facility?”

Keith doesn’t move for a second and then very slightly shakes his head no. 

“Then it wasn’t your fault. They kidnapped you, yeah? I’d heard of them doing that on the news but I never… Keith I’m not going to hate you for something you had no control over. That’d be like you hating me for thinking I was straight or because I’m Cuban.”

“How do you know they kidnapped me?” Keith snaps, suddenly angry. His face is red and his eyes sharp. Lance can’t figure out for the life of him what he’s said wrong, “I went with them because I wanted to Lance, I went of my own choice and-”

“You said you were  _ four,”  _ Lance counters, “ _ Four fucking years old.  _ That’s what you said when you talked about your power suppressants. I don’t know if that’s when they took you or just when they first had contact with you but either way that’s not how consent works, Keith. You don’t ask a child who has nowhere to go right after a parent dies if they want a stable place to live with someone to take care of them and expect them to say no. That’s not how this works!”

He’s breathing heavily and Keith is too, for some reason, although neither of them has done anything except stare at each other. Lance blinks and Keith moves, but it’s not away from him, it’s toward him and their mouths clash with ferocious intensity. It’s not pretty and Lance thinks he might have a split lip but Lance’s hands make contact with Keith’s bare torso and it’s worth it. There’s more scarring on his back, more angry lines that speak of near death experiences, but Lance knows that this is a conversation for later, for  **after** . 

Keith’s calloused fingers slide down from Lance’s chest to his hips and there’s a moment of panic when Lance realizes that they’re probably going to have sex, actual, real, gay, sex, and he tries to prepare himself for the fact that he might just have to be the bottom here. He doesn’t know what to do, or even how to ask, but then Keith lets up just slightly, his forehead resting against Lance’s for a moment while he catches his breath. Keith’s straddling him, Lance realizes, and he has the sudden thought that this might not be going how he thinks. 

“Do you want to do this?” Keith whispers into the bare inch of space between them. He’s so close that his eyes are almost the only thing Lance can see, irises of a deep blue and gray that in this light look purple. 

Lance nods. 

“I’ll do the work, then,” Keith’s smile is slow, seductive, and if anyone had told Lance that Keith Kogane with anger issues and a tendency toward violence could pull of an expression like that he would have laughed until he cried. Now, though, it sends waves of something like desire through him and he swallows. Keith’s eyes crinkle at the corners and his grin turns more real, genuine, “Next time, though, it’ll be your turn, got it?”

_ Next time?  _ God, Lance loves the sound of that. 

Keith kisses him once, a short quick, press of lips and then he grabs Lance’s hands and moves them to the small of his back. It takes Lance a second and Keith’s low chuckle for him to figure out he’s supposed to be removing Keith’s sweats and he does so with a little assistance. Once Lance gets him naked, it strikes him, again, that Keith’s got much more muscle than he appears to have fully clothed. He’s not small with his gear on, by any means, but looking at him now, Lance appreciates it so much more. His dick too, is a bit more than Lance expected. He’s obviously aroused, and Lance takes a moment to appreciate that he doesn’t have to worry about how that is going to fit in his asshole at present. 

“Lube’s in the nightstand,” Keith instructs and Lance hurriedly reaches over, fumbling for it in the top drawer. He finds the bottle and places it in Keith’s outstretched hand with trembling fingers. He can’t tell if he’s excited or nervous or both but he doesn’t want to take the time to piece that out right then. 

Keith pours a generous amount onto his fingers. Lance watches him, and upon seeing that Keith’s planning to do all the preparation himself, Lance snags his wrist, “Wait, no… let me do it?”

Keith raises an eyebrow, “Lance, you’ve got to be careful-”

“I know, I know,” he says hastily, “Look, you just tell me what to do and I’ll follow all of your instructions to the letter. Okay? I’m not just here to get my rocks off or whatever, I’m here cause I like you and I want you to have a good time too.”

“You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Well I am. I want to learn. Teach me?”

Keith wavers for a moment and then finally relents, handing Lance the bottle of lube, “Pour a lot on. And I mean, a lot. I haven’t done this in a while, alright? You’re going to have to go slow.”

“Yes, sir,” Lance says mockingly and is rewarded by Keith’s fond sigh of exasperation. Or at least he hopes its fond. It sounds plenty affectionate to him. 

Keith moves to sit in front of Lance, almost on top of him, actually and there’s some messy kissing and a bit more groping before Keith firmly takes Lance’s wrist. He guides him around, says, “Start with just the index finger,” and then bites Lance’s earlobe. 

Lance sucks in a quick breath, unsure how he’s  _ more  _ turned than before. He takes his time, fingers exploring Keith a little before he actually makes any progress. 

“You act like you’ve never felt an ass cheek before,” Keith murmurs, humor simmering under the surface but Lance doesn’t find this situation funny at all. 

“Not like yours,” Lance says truthfully and he feels more than hears Keith’s snicker. 

“That supposed to be a compliment?”

“Absolutely,” Lance breathes, and then he slides his finger inside, slowly, knuckle by knuckle. Keith stiffens, and not in a good way, although how Lance knows the difference he’s not really sure, “You okay?”

“Yep,” Keith immediately answers, his mouth on Lance’s neck. He almost can’t concentrate on the task at hand because Keith’s mouth is so fucking distracting but then Keith says, “Start moving,” and he has to obey. 

It doesn’t take as long as Lance expected before Keith’s telling him he can put in another finger, can start scissoring. By the time he’s wondering if he should put in a third digit, Keith’s got his forehead pressed to Lance’s shoulder and he’s turned a bit to give Lance better access. He looks… sensual, soft, almost, and like the simple motion of Lance’s finger brings him pleasure Lance can only dream about. He wants that. He does, actually, really truly want that.  _ Next time,  _ he promises himself,  _ next time I won’t be so afraid.  _

“Lance,” Keith sighs, “Lance you’re good, it’s good, let me-”

He bats Lance’s fingers away like they’re annoying him more than anything, like they’re an afterthought and then he lightly shoves Lance’s chest, knocking him backward onto the bed. He’s flat, staring up at Keith as he settles his knees to straddle Lance’s hips and then begins to lower himself, carefully, onto Lance’s cock. 

It’s honestly like nothing Lance has ever felt before. The warm heat of Keith envelopes him and he might actually stop breathing. It’s incredible. Keith shifts a little and there’s a slight hitch in his breath that Lance can’t interpret but then he’s entirely sheathed and Keith pauses. Lance’s brain finally gets enough oxygen to form a thought and he opens his eyes to see Keith with one hand on either side of Lance’s chest. His hair hangs in front of his face but Lance can still see the pinched look to his eyes. 

Lance reaches forward, moving Keith’s long hair out of the way so that he can see the man’s expression fully. He doesn’t look like he’s in pain, but he’s uncomfortable, that’s for sure. 

“You sure you’re okay with doing this?” Lance whispers and Keith rolls his eyes. 

“It’s a little late to ask that,” Keith groans, “I know what I’m doing Lance. Shut up.”

Lance listens to this advice. If he’s being honest, it’s only because Keith starts moving. It’s slow at first, little lifts and a bit of rocking but then Keith begins to relax and he leans forward, his motions becoming more aggressive, more purposeful. His cheeks are flushed but Lance is having a hard time focusing on that because waves of heat radiate from where he’s joined with Keith to the rest of his body. He can’t help it as his hips stutter upward, thrusting into Keith who grunts and meets Lance’s pace. Lance knows he probably looks like a disaster, his head pressing back into the pillow, his hands gripping Keith’s thighs so tightly he’s probably leaving bruises. He’s covered in sweat and he’s pretty sure there’s at least three different hickies on his neck that he’s going to have to deal with tomorrow. He’s gross, and it’s not fair because Keith looks like a fucking greek god or something. His abdominal muscles clench and flex, his pecs glisten, his biceps make Lance’s mouth water. His hair parts in a jagged line on top of his head, most of it messily raked backward by what Lance thinks were his fingers. 

Lance isn’t quiet, he’s not trying to be- but Keith’s nearly silent throughout the whole wonderful mess until Lance accidently moves the angle at which he’s entering and Keith’s head tips back, his bottom lip catching between his teeth as he makes a low sound in the back of his throat that almost sends Lance over the edge. 

His dick throbs, and he has to exercise restraint when Keith pants, “Lance that’s-” he thrusts again and Keith blurts, “Right there, oh  _ god _ ,  _ Lance _ .”

He kind of loses his mind a little when Keith says his name. Moans  _ his  _ name. He didn’t realize how badly he wanted  _ this,  _ how much he needed to hear  _ that,  _ and he surges upward, capturing Keith’s face in his hands, his mouth in his. Their positions flip somehow, Lance thinks that maybe Keith facilitated it but he can’t really be sure because he’s suddenly on top, using his knees to keep them at a good angle while Keith wraps his legs around Lance’s waist, his ankles locked together behind his back. He’s close, so close and he tries to tell Keith as much but the other man swallows his words with his tongue, keeping them locked together as much as possible while allowing Lance to continue his momentum. 

He speaks in time with his rhythm, with the loud exhales that count the passage of time, the building of climax, “Keith,  _ Keith,  _ oh god this is… you are-”

He cums, hard, his vision whiting out as he shudders. He’s still buried balls deep in Keith’s ass, a thought that seems so surreal, and he has only a second to wonder if he’s hurting the other man before he realizes that Keith’s got his hand in between them and it’s wrapped around his own dick. Keith’s gone a second later, his eyes closing, his lips parting as he says something Lance can’t hear because his ears are still ringing and he’s pretty sure his body is made of spaghetti noodles. 

He collapses next to Keith, pulling out with as much care as he can manage. Keith’s still lying with his eyes closed, breathing in that way that athletes do to regain their composure after a long run. Lance is a lost cause, gulping in air like he’s gone without it for hours. 

He wonders why Keith doesn’t usually bottom because he’s  _ damn  _ good at it in Lance’s inexperienced opinion. 

“Alright,” Keith says finally, his voice hoarse, “Not gonna lie. You are just as good of a lay as I thought you’d be.”

He tries not to let that make him feel warm and tingly but it does anyway, “ _ I’m  _ a good lay? Shit dude you’re like. I don’t know. I have so many regrets.”

“Like what?” Keith asks absently, his eyes still shut. 

“Like the fact that I didn’t grab your ass sooner, or realize I was bi sooner. We could have been doing this since like. Highschool. Fuck dude. If we were in medieval times, people would sacrifice goats to have a chance to see you naked. Just to look. Not even to touch.”

Keith sits up at that, one eyebrow lifted toward his hairline, “Yeah sure Loverboy. Go get some towels.”

Lance notices, then, that he’s sticky. He’s got Keith’s cum and probably some of his own on his chest and his thighs and Keith doesn’t look much better, “Holy shit we’re disgusting.”

“Yeah that’s why condoms exist but they’re hard to come by in this post-apocalyptic nightmare. Get towels!”

“Thought condoms were so women don’t get pregnant,” Lance teases, “And why do I have to get the towels?”

He’s warm, lazy, wants a nap and getting up sounds exhausting. Keith flicks his face and he startles upright, “Firstly, that’s the hetero agenda getting to you, and secondly, you’re grabbing the damn towels because I’ve got your fucking semen up my asshole. You think I like it being there? No. Get the towels.”

Apparently his awkwarness in talking about sex only lasted til the deed was done. Good to know. 

He gets the towels. He even gets them damp. 

Keith still does the majority of the cleanup, knowing exactly what needs to be done and where. Once the bed is once again presentable and had been wiped down, Keith stretches and pads into the bathroom. Lance, unsure of what to do, doesn’t follow. 

“Lance,” Keith’s voice floats from behind the curtain. He sounds smug, overly sure of himself. Back to the usual then, “I’m taking a shower. If you would like one, this is your only opportunity. In the name of water conservation and all.”

“Water is a precious commodity,” he agrees much too quickly. Keith laughs. 

Shit, Lance really loves that sound. 

 

**Now** :

“So what’s that one then?” Lance asks, running his finger along a silver scar between two of Keith’s lower ribs. He’s on his stomach, one of Keith’s hands running under his chest. The man’s fingers deftly work at a knot alongside Lance’s shoulder blade without Lance having had to ask him to. It only takes something that small for some tiny part of his brain to think that this might not be just sex. That this might be more. And it might be better than anything he ever had with Nyma. He loved her, in a weird way that he needed her to survive, both emotionally and physically. But she never, never would have given him a massage without it acting as some kind of foreplay. She would have teased him, told him he wasn’t being a man, that he should toughen up. 

Keith, instead, found where Lance was sore and without a word had started doing what he could to fix it. Their shower was only twenty minutes long, but it was twenty minutes of washing Keith’s hair and choking on his own mirth when some soap got in his eyes. There had been a lot of swearing and then Lance had kissed him to say he was sorry. He was afraid would be too much, too many emotions, but Keith just jabbed his finger into Lance’s side for revenge and it was all forgiven. 

Now, they’re lying next to each other on the clean bed. Keith’s wearing only basketball shorts despite the fact that it’s winter and Arus isn’t well heated. Lance put his joggers back on, but they’re rolled up a little around his calves, his bare feet up in the air like they haven’t been since his sleepovers with Hunk. 

“My sister stabbed me,” Keith mumbles, biting one of his nails, a habit of his Lance never noticed before. 

“Your what?” Lance squawks. Keith’s hand falls away, and the man makes a disgruntled noise as he tries to manhandle Lance back into his previous position. 

“Stay still! My sister. I had a sister and she stabbed me with a fucking butcher knife.”

“Holy shit Keith-”

“No, no, no,” Keith pulls his finger from his mouth and uses that hand to cover

Lance’s lips, “You don’t get to ask any more questions. That wasn’t the deal. My turn.”

He hesitates, scanning Lance’s torso and then points to a jagged line on Lance’s upper left arm, the one that’s pressed against his side, “That one.”

Lance wants to ask, is burning with the desire to know how he’s gone his entire life

not knowing Keith Kogane had a  _ sister  _ but he also knows it’s probably a touchy subject. So he lets it go. Because he’s an adult, “You’d better tell me later. What’s her name? Shit no, sorry don’t tell me, I know, I know. That scar was from a fight I got into with a tree. Pidge and I were racing grocery carts down that massive hill outside of the high school- you know the one where Trey Giovani smashed that stupid mustang his parents bought him- and I just so happened to hit the same oak tree that he did, only with my body. Broke my arm in three places.”

Keith whistles, “Damn.”

“Battle scars, you know how they are,” Lance sniffs, “Pidge didn’t make it out without some serious road rash either, it was intense. We were both in the ER all night, our parents were so mad.”

Keith snorts. He’s getting sleepy. It’s kind of cute the way he squints to try to mask how slowly he’s been blinking. Lance isn’t offended. It’s late- the lights are probably about to go off based on the timer and he’s had more than his fair share of yawning in the last half hour of their conversation. 

It’s Lance’s turn again, so he leans over to Keith’s other hip and pokes his spider tattoo, “What’s that one? It looks familiar.”

It’s a small spider hanging upside down from a thread, simple black and white. It’s not like spider tattoos that Lance has seen before. Rolo had one- it was a terrifying and kind of gross tarantula or something. Keith’s is cute, perfectly nestled into the hollow of his hip, but not low enough to be something he’d be afraid of his mother seeing. 

“You ever read that book Charlotte’s Web as a kid?” Keith says casually. It’s forced. Nothing about the his posture is relaxed, easy going. 

“Yeah,” Lance perks up, “Oh my god it’s the spider from the cover, right? Charlotte?”

Something clicks. He waits to see what Keith’s going to say, but his suspicion sits heavy on his tongue. 

“I used to love that book. It was the only one that my foster parents would let me read cause their real children thought it was too depressing, but it wasn’t, not really. Charlotte, the spider, she does great things, right? She goes beyond what a spider who only lives a summer is supposed to be able to be. Like she helps her friends and she has a  _ life  _ and she leaves a legacy for her family to remember her by-” Keith cuts himself off, and says with a huff, “You know what I mean?”

“Yeah I remember that,” he says. It’s fuzzy, but he does. He thought it was depressing too as a kid, but now that he’s thinking about it, he sees what Keith means, although he can’t piece together why the man’s so heated.

He thinks maybe that’s all Keith’s going to say, despite the obvious fact that he has a niece named Charlotte and that  _ can’t  _ be a coincidence, but then Keith says, “I named her, you know. Charlotte. I named her because I want her to have that, to be more than she’s supposed to be able to be given the shit she’s had in her life. She can be a hero, help her friends, have her own legacy. Something all her own.”

Now Lance gets it. Why he’s passionate about a kids book, why there is a spider on his hip, “You get it before or after Charlie?”

“After,” Keith’s stopped rubbing Lance’s back, but Lance doesn’t mind, “She was like six months old I think, before I was sober enough for Shiro to give it to me.”

“Shiro gave you the tattoo?” Lance didn’t think he could be any more surprised by this story, but he is. 

“Yeah, he’s a great artist. Had his own kit at one point, was gonna open a shop with his friend as his civilian job and do hero stuff on the sly but that didn’t work out when the whole hero thing went kaput.”

The lights start shutting off one by one and Lance groans inwardly. He’s learning more about Keith than he has in the entire six months he had being on this team and he’s not done fishing for information. 

But Keith’s obviously exhausted. He fluffs a blanket up over both himself and Lance and then says, making a valiant effort to sound awake, “We can keep going.”

“Na, you’re tired. We should sleep.”

“Mmmkay,” Keith grunts, “Not gonna argue. Night Loverboy.”

Is that a nickname? It’s the second time Keith’s called him that. He kinda likes it. 

“Night Samurai.”

 

**Now** :

He wakes when the curtain to Keith’s room is pulled back. He can’t see who’s standing there, but Keith’s alert and awake beside him in an instant, the arm that was curled around Lance’s torso tightening. 

It happens all at once. There’s the discharge of air that means a dart gun. Keith jerks back and there’s a pinch in Lance’s arm. There’s a loud crash from the hallway. The lights start flickering on one by one, like someone’s using the switches instead of the remote Pidge uses to turn them on all at once. As soon as Lance catches his breath, he flips over to face the man behind him, adrenaline searing through his veins like acid.

“Where are you hit?” Lance asks urgently, immediately pushing off the blankets, “Keith?”

But Keith’s conscious, not on fire and looking at Lance with barely concealed horror. 

“What?”

He glances down and realizes that he didn’t notice a dart in Keith’s arm because it’s in his own. The silver cartridge protrudes from the muscle of his bicep and he pulls it out with a wince, staring at the blue contents with muted curiosity that keeps the fear at bay. 

“I think this was meant for you,” Lance says, attempting at slight humor as he tosses the dart to Keith, “What would they try to hit you with?”

“I-I don’t know Lance, suppressant maybe?”

He doesn’t feel any different. He can still feel the water in the bathroom, running through the pipes, the sink, dripping from Pidge’s shower. He can feel the moisture in Keith’s mouth, the sweat beading up on his forehead and-  _ whoa.  _

He can feel it all. Everything. He doesn’t mean to call it to him but it listens and he panics when he hears Keith’s choking gasps. He can’t see. No, he can, but it’s water, all of it and he doesn’t know how to make it go away. 

“Lance, you have to relax!” Keith rasps, “It was an accelerant! Focus on the water inside yourself, you have what you need there. Let it go Lance, relax!”

He can’t. He doesn’t know how. 

“Yes, you do,” Keith says from somewhere far away and then he sees him. Keith underwater for some reason. His hair floats like seaweed and Lance wants to run his fingers through it to see if it’s as soft as it looks. 

The water’s starting to turn to ice. Lance can’t tell if he’s willing it to do that or not, but it’s turning to ice anyway and he’s cold, so  _ fucking  _ cold and then there’s a supernova and he goes blind for a second. When he blinks away the sunbursts, Keith is in front of him, starting to look a little blue from the lack of oxygen. Or maybe it’s the ice. 

He pushes against the frozen slurry and wraps Lance into the warmest embrace that he’s ever been in. And he remembers. How to relax. 

The water sloshes to the floor around them and Keith coughs, gagging only once as his body rids itself of whatever he inhaled. He’s still got Lance in a death grip, one that Lance returns. 

“You’re okay,” Keith’s murmuring. Steam wafts off the both of them. Lance watches it with fascination, “You’re okay, come back to me, come on.” 

It takes a lifetime or a few minutes to return to awareness. He’s not sure which. When he does, he realizes he’s been crying, salty tears trickling down his cheek only to evaporate as they hit Keith’s bare neck. 

“You okay for the moment?” Keith lifts Lance’s head and strokes his thumb under one of Lance’s eyes. He looks so worried that it almost makes Lance cry again, “It’s going to happen again, but we should have a few minutes before it does. You can be ready next time. They’re like waves, you just gotta roll with it otherwise it'll be worse. If you try to use your power for something productive it’ll help but it’ll be hard to manage.”

“How long does it last?” Lance asks, hating that he sounds hysterical but he’s out of control and he absolutely fucking hates it. He’s never had this before. Even in the compound it was all his choice, all his decision to rage. This is just pure power and he doesn’t want it. 

“Half an hour at the most,” Keith says curtly, hurrying over to the door. There’s at least a foot of water for him to wade through. 

“Why isn’t this draining? And how do you know so much about this… accelerant?”

“It’s not draining because my room is one of the only ones with real walls. Concrete, except the door,” Keith moves the curtain, “God damn it they blocked the door. Of course they fucking did.”

“Keith how do you know-”

“They hit me with it at the financial tower,” Keith says dully, not looking at Lance, “And I killed everyone. I’m not going to let you do that.”

“Good,” Lance shivers. He's having a hard time processing things, but he knows Keith just told him something important. He'll think about it later. Not right now. Right now, it’s cold. So cold. His teeth chatter, “Good, thank you.”

Keith nods, throwing his shoulder against what looks like a massive metal slab. He bounces back without making a dent, and more cussing follows. 

Then there’s a high pitched scream and a girl cries, “Papa!! Mama help me!!”

Lance’s heart somehow manages to freeze further when a male voice that he recognizes answers, “Would you shut up?”

“That’s Lotor,” he says at the same time that the blood drains from Keith’s face and he whispers, “That’s Charlie.”

“Uncle Keith!” Charlotte shrieks, “Un-” 

Her yells cut off and Keith throws himself at the door again, hitting it with his fist, “No!”

“Keith-”

“No! He can’t- He  _ can’t take her!”  _ Keith roars, slamming the barrier with his palms, his elbows, his shoulders, “ _ Charlotte!  _ Answer me Little!  _ Charlie?!” _

Lance feels just about as in control of himself as Keith looks at this present moment, but he sloshes forward anyway, knowing he has to do something to stop this before Keith seriously hurts himself. He grabs Keith’s shoulders and pulls, yanking and twisting until they’re falling backward into the water. Lance goes under for a moment and comes up sputtering to Keith’s knee in his gut. 

“Lance, you don’t understand, you don’t know, you don’t-” Keith pleads, “We have to get her, we  _ have to get her Lance.” _

“Keith!” Lance shouts, Keith’s face smooshed between his fingers. It’s not what he was going for, but it's what he’s got so he works with it. This reaction, more than anything else, is the last piece of the puzzle, the last thing that he needed. He replays all the interactions he’s seen Keith have with Charlotte over the last six months, the way he pays her special attention, the way his eyes get soft when he sees her, says her name even, the overprotectiveness, his tattoo, the strange way Shiro looks at the two of them sometimes, how no one knows who Charlie’s parents are, how her eyes are the same exact shape of Keith’s as Lance stares into them, her nose is the same too and she’s definitely got his temper- how did he not figure this out sooner? “I understand, I get it!”

“No you don’t-”

“I do,” Lance insists, as the man in his arms struggles to escape, “Keith, listen to me, listen!  _ I know she’s your daughter.” _

The look of total and complete terror that now fixates on Lance is an answer all on its own.


	21. Hunk, Pidge, Allura, Coran, Lotor: Puzzle Pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thank you guys for all the reactions to that last chapter!! I really appreciate all the comments/kudos!
> 
> That leads me into this: sorry for the long wait! This chapter isn't really up to my standards, but I wanted to get it out anyway since I left you all on kind of a cliffhanger. There are definitely technological inaccuracies in here, I don't know how to computer I'm sorry. Hope you enjoy!

_ Hunk _

**Eight Hours Ago:**

He wasn’t sure he could ever remember being happier. 

He and Shay sat with their feet dangling off the dock in the sanctuary, her hand wrapped securely in his as they watched the stars twinkle overhead. Or well, Shay watched. He couldn’t stop looking at her, studying the way a lock of her hair refused to say in her ponytail and curled in front of her ear, the awe in the lines of her lips, the squint to her eyes as she traced the constellations with her gaze. 

“I love you,” he said and she blinked. 

They’d been whatever they were for almost two years now and he couldn’t think of a time he’d said this. When he’d just… told her how he felt. She’d said those three words to him so many times he’d lost count, but he hadn’t been able to convince himself that it would be okay. That he could love someone and not have the G.A.L.R.A. take it from him. 

“Hunk, you-” her voice broke and her free hand lifted from her lap to caress his face. He hadn’t shaved in a bit, but she didn’t seem to mind the stubble as she kissed him. 

The water rippled around their feet as she shifted. Everything was quiet, and still and peaceful and he loved her. He loved her and he finally, finally felt like maybe things were changing, things were going to be different now. 

Maybe things were finally going to be alright. 

 

**Now:**

He’s still at Shay’s when he feels the panic through the bond. 

There’s something wrong with Lance’s energy- he can feel it roiling, pulsing, pushing at the boundaries of Lance’s control. It feels like Keith’s energy had after he’d first gone off the suppressants, like it still feels sometimes. Wild. Unmanageable. 

He sits up, trying to gain his bearings and figure out what’s going on, but everything’s chaos in his head. Shay stirs next to him, turning over to face him again, but he doesn’t know what to say in response to the sleepy question in her eyes. 

“Hunk?” Shay whispers when he slides out from under the covers, “What’s wrong?”

“I… don’t know,” he groans and she’s immediately awake, reaching over to click on the lamp on her side, “It’s so loud.”

“Take deep breaths,” Shay says soothingly as she climbs across the bed toward him. He’s on the floor but he’s not sure how he ended up there, “Pick out one voice. Who is the loudest?”

_ Pain, panic, regret, angry, fury, regret, panic, panic, panic, panic- _

“Allura,” he croaks and Shay nods. 

“Latch onto her. Block everyone else out. Figure out what happened.”

He does as Shay tells him. He focuses in on Allura’s feelings. Yellow sits in front of  him on the floor, giving him an unreadable stare. He pleads with his lion, with his connection to the others to help him, let him in closer to Allura’s power, her  strength. Yellow leans forward, resting his paw on Hunk’s forehead and he breaks through to her, somehow.  

_ Allura? _

_ Hunk! Hunk, how’re you- it doesn’t matter, Lotor’s here, he’s got Charlie, he took her and I can’t find them! _

_ Where are the others, what’s happened to them- _

_ I don’t know, I don’t know, we need you here, Hunk, please. _

_ Bring me over. _

He gets a brief moment of her agreement before he opens his eyes again and gently cups Shay’s face in his hands. She seems so small, so worried, and he never wants to leave her ever again but his team needs him. 

“Go,” she says, and kisses him. Her lips so soft and warm that he almost doesn’t step through the portal when it appears at his feet. 

He does, though. They need him. His family. 

 

**Now:**

He steps out of the astral plane back to Arus. Yellow guards him the entire way there through the Astral Plane, snarling at anything that dares to approach. He doesn’t look at the creatures, too afraid to see their real forms. 

When he re-enters reality, it’s not the chaos he’d been expecting. It’s just Allura with her back against the wall outside of her room, tears streaking down her face. She gives him such a look of hopelessness that he wonders, briefly, if someone’s died. 

“They took her Hunk,” Allura cries, “They took our baby.”

Hunk knows she doesn’t mean his and Allura’s actual child, obviously she doesn’t. She means that Lotor took one of the children that they’ve been collectively raising for the past two years, the six year old little girl who they’ve all tried so hard to make sure was brought up right. She’s Shiro’s daughter, but they all care for her like she’s their own.

“What happened Allura? Where are the others?”

“I don’t know,” she says thickly, swiping at her tears, “I… only woke up a second ago and there was a dart in my arm. I think they must have used some kind of tranquilizer to keep me asleep while they took her. Keith was… he’s the one who sent it through to me that she was taken. I made it out here but I can’t stand. I don’t know what’s going on with the others.”

“Stay here,” Hunk instructs, “I’ll go check on Eliza and bring her back here to you, okay? Then I’ll find the others.”

“Thank you,” another tear falls, joining it’s brethren on her damp cheeks, “Thank you Hunk.”

He doesn’t want to leave her there, but he knows he has to. He sprints to Eliza and Charlie’s doorway, right next door. The curtain’s been ripped aside, the room beyond is a mess, and in the middle of it sits Eliza, her eyes wide and terrified. 

She screams when she sees Hunk, but upon realizing who it is, immediately runs from under blankets, collapsing against Hunk’s legs with a sob, “They took Lee, they took her they took Lee Uncle Hunk we hafta-”

“I know sweetie, I know,” Hunk crouches down to her level, “We’re going to get her back. Me, your mom, your dad, Uncle Keith and Uncle Lance, Aunt Pidge, Uncle Coran, we’re all here and we’re going to get your sister back, okay?”

She nods, her tiny face scared beyond belief. Hunk wonders what she saw, what she’d experienced, but they don’t have time for this. He picks her up, and she lets him, hiding her face like she’s much younger than eight. 

He brings her to Allura, who gives a wordless shout of relief. She tries to stand, but can’t, her arms reaching for her elder daughter as Eliza kicks her way from from Hunk’s grip to fall into the arms of her mother. 

“We’ll be fine here,” Allura assures him, “I’ll join you when I’m able. Find the others.”

He races through the compound. He barges into Shiro’s room and finds that he too, has a dart in his arm. He tries, to no avail, to wake him, and settles for pulling the tranq from his skin. When he wakes, he should be able to probe for information through the bond. Their connection is strong, stronger than even the first day they made it. He can feel everyone. Allura’s worry and relief, Pidge’s mind numbing frenzy, Keith’s fury, Lance’s barely restrained energy. Shiro is dark, faded, but he hopes he returns soon. 

He finds Pidge in her lab, furiously typing at her computer. 

“What are you doing?” Hunk exclaims, “Lotor is out there right now, getting away with Charlie-”

“ _ I know, _ ” Pidge roars, and Hunk takes a step back, “ _ I know,   _ but they put some kind  of virus on our equipment and I have to stop it Hunk! They’ll get all of our intel on the safehouses, the sanctuary towns, if I don’t! Find the others and when I stop this, I’ll join you.”

He wants to tell her to drop it, to fuck the virus, to let Lotor have whatever information he wants because  _ Charlie,  _ but he knows that’s not right, “Fine. Where are Keith, Lance and Coran?”

But she’s already reabsorbed into her screen, ignoring him.

He’s in over his head here. He checks in the med bay, but doesn’t see Coran. He races to Keith’s room, and finds, to his horror, a slab of metal covering the entrance. A small stream of water trickles out from under it, forming tiny waterfalls in all the uneven parts of the floor. 

“Keith?” He yells and is rewarded by Keith’s cracked and hoarse voice responding, “Hunk?”

“I’m just behind the wall, I’m gonna try to move the metal, alright? Stand clear!”

He wonders why Keith didn’t just melt the barrier himself- he’s fully capable of creating fire hot enough to do it, they’ve all seen it. Maybe there’s something stopping him. Maybe he was darted just like Shiro and Allura? Hunk’s heart sinks somewhere down to his toes when he realizes they might have to go through Keith’s withdrawal all over again. 

“You’re good!” He hears Keith call back in response. 

Manipulating metal isn’t like moving stone. Sure, stone has pieces of metal in it, and there’s no part of the earth that doesn’t contain trace amounts of it, but a pure slab of steel is different. He has to expend much more effort than he might have had to if this were dirt. It’s like the substance knows he’s attuned to the earth, not man-made materials, and it fights with him, trying to retain it’s created shape. 

He makes a significant dent in forming a new doorway- the piece of industrial steel is much too large and too thick to simply slide out of the way- when he hears Keith saying something. He can’t make it out fully but he thinks it’s something like “No, it’s just Hunk.”

Keith’s still talking but Hunk can’t understand any of it until he shouts, “Lance-”

There’s a roar, an inhuman sound that almost reminds him of the raging ocean and then silence. Hunk doesn’t stop working, he’s almost finished, almost there, but then Keith shouts, “Hunk, stop!”

Hunk can feel Lance’s power spiking, rising to aggressive heights and he backs away, listening to Keith. Something’s wrong, really wrong, and there’s a bone shaking  _ thud  _ as something slams into the metal barrier with impossible force. The slab wobbles, then leans, and comes crashing down. Hunk just barely manages to get out of it’s path, his mouth falling open in shock. Water rushes out toward him, overtaking his ankles, his knees, rushing to freedom with a loud gurgle. That explains then, why Keith wasn't able to build up a hot enough fire. 

He can hear Keith now, saying over and over, “Lance! Lance, listen it’s just Hunk, it’s just-”

Spikes of ice form. Lance’s eyes are glowing blue, the marks on his cheeks lighting both his expression of twisted anguish and Keith’s fear. Without another word, the deadly projectiles flare outward in an arc. Hunk realizes, slowly, belatedly, that he might be killed by his best friend. He’s going to die. 

But Keith bellows, “No!” and an explosion rocks through Hunk’s field of vision. He closes his eyes, waiting for the pain, the blossoming agony, but there’s nothing. He peeks out from behind the hands that had risen of their own accord to cover his face and he’s shocked to see the steaming path of scorched wall leading in his direction. Keith had somehow managed to melt most of the icicles. He couldn’t get all of them apparently- several large spikes protrude from the drywall behind Lance. 

Keith sags, one hand coming up to swipe at wet strands of hair stuck to his forehead, his cheeks. He meets Hunk’s questioning gaze for a brief moment before he shifts his attention back to Lance. Neither he nor Keith is wearing a shirt, there’s a lake in Keith’s room and Hunk feels like he’d just interrupted something private.

“What’s going on?” he finally manages, and Keith answers without tearing his eyes from Lance, without removing his hands from Lance’s face. 

“They hit him with a power accelerant,” Keith’s voice is gravel and rage, every inch of him a cold terrifying fury, “It was supposed to be for me. Lotor’s got Charlie, as soon as Lance comes out of this we need to go get her.”

Ah. 

Hunk gets it. He gets the metal, the blocked door. Why Keith wasn’t knocked unconscious. Lotor intended Keith to lose control, intended him to be trapped in his room just long enough for him to set everything inside ablaze. When the metal melted, the rest of the compound would go up as well, and the rest of the team was knocked unconscious to ensure they’d be caught in it. 

But Lance was there. And he got hit with the dart instead. He almost asks, almost blurts his confusion, but then he remembers Lance’s rants about Keith, remembers the way Keith looked at Lance during training, the time they’ve been spending alone recently and he knows. Lance spent the night. He doesn’t know if they’re together, if they’re a thing, but he shouldn’t ask. Not now. 

“I’ll get the dart gun, we can at least keep him unconscious until it-”

“ _ No!” _ Keith spits, whirling to face Hunk. His chest is heaving and his eyes are wild, a single, unquavering finger pointed in Hunk’s direction, “ _ No.  _ You  _ will not  _ use that on him.  _ Do you understand?” _

“I-” Hunk is speechless. He never expected that reaction. He had thought he was suggesting the right thing, but he can see by the way Keith shield’s Lance from him that he misread something somewhere. Instead of speaking, he nods. 

Keith relaxes, marginally. By now, Lance’s eyes are fading to their normal blue, his pupils reappearing. He squints over Keith’s shoulder at Hunk, “Hunk?”

“Yeah man, it’s me. Allura brought me back to help with Lotor.”

“Awesome,” Keith comments with no emotion behind the word, “We need to figure out where in the compound Lotor intends to escape from, he might already be gone but if we’re lucky-”

“We’ll get her back,” Lance interrupts, snagging Keith’s wrist and squeezing, “Hunk, where’s the rest of the team?”

“Allura and Shiro were knocked out- Allura’s up and with Eliza. Pidge is taking care of some virus Lotor’s team sent. It’s just us for right now.”

“It’ll have to be good enough,” Keith grimaces and steps out into the hall, “Why don’t we split up? Head for each of the possible exits-”

Hunk’s stomach does flip flops at the thought of that, “No, no no, no way, we’re not splitting up. We’d be better off together. I’m sure Lotor brought a team with him, we’re better off fighting them as a group.”

“We don’t have time!” Keith erupts, his eyes blazing, “He has  _ Charlie  _ Hunk!”

“I know!” Hunk answers, just as much fire in his voice, “But we’re no good to her if Lotor’s people  _ kill us.” _

Keith takes a deep breath, presumably to yell at Hunk again, but Lance says very quietly from behind him, “Hunk’s right. We need to stick together.”

Keith glances between the two of them, frustration overtaking his features until he finally growls, “Whatever. Let’s move then.”

They start the search, checking in empty rooms and places that Lotor could have set up base while engaging in his kidnapping mission. This wasn’t a quick in and out if he had time to dart nearly everyone on the team, plant a virus and take Charlie. There would be signs of Lotor somewhere, even if it was just their shoe prints. They needed any clues they could get. 

It soon became clear that Lance was lagging behind, sweat beaded up and dripping from his brow despite the chill he radiated. Keith kept giving him looks that Hunk couldn’t interpret, something like concern and fear or hesitation, maybe. Finally, Keith stops them and says in a short, no nonsense tone of voice, “Lance, come’ere. I’m carrying you.”

“I don’t need-”

“You’re slowing us down!” Keith snaps, but he sounds worried, not angry. Lance flinches anyway, “Lance, please.”

Lance stares at Keith for a long moment, then rolls his eyes. He lets Keith lift him piggyback style, and they take a second to adjust before they start forward again. 

They don’t make it far- the factory is a huge place, and they’re looking for small  clues. Hunk can sense Keith’s frustration and desperation mounting, can feel that Lance is barely hanging on by a thread, but neither of them speaks until a woman materializes in front of them at the end of the hall. She’s got her hands on her hips, her head cocked in curiousity as she blinks at them with wide innocent eyes. 

“Looky what I found!” she crows, her multicolored hair shivering as she giggles and claps her hands, “Lotor’s going to be so proud of me!”

“Lance,” Keith says lowly, his eyes never leaving the woman, “I’m going to put you down now.”

Lance nods, landing lightly on his feet. The woman’s wearing full gear, probably bulletproof, all of it, and the three of them are in their pj’s. It’s a totally fair match, and Hunk’s mouth feels as dry as the Sahara. This is not going to go well. 

And that’s  _ before  _ the other one shows up. Another woman swings down from the rafters. She lands beside her compatriot, a small smile on her lips. She looks familiar, achingly so, but Hunk can’t put his finger on where he’s seen her before. Keith seems to know her, his face paling a shade or two as he meets her gaze. 

“You’re supposed to be killing your team right about now,” the familiar woman drawls. She’s looking at Keith. 

Keith recovers and says in a voice like ice, “Apparently neither of us is getting what we want today. You’re supposed to be dead.”

“I am,” she responds. Hunk can see Lance shooting him ‘what the hell?’ looks over Keith’s shoulder, but Hunk just shrugs because he isn’t sure what’s going on either, “As is… what’s her name? Charlotte? If you want her back, you’ll meet us at the address your little hacker will find on the device we left.”

Keith stiffens, “Or we just stop you before you take her.”

“It’s too late for that-” the woman starts, but Keith’s launching himself at her, running faster than Hunk’s ever seen him move before. The woman dodges and swipes at him with a knife and then they’re dancing around each other. The one with colorful hair vanishes and then reappears just enough for Hunk to watch her fist slam into his face and he stumbles backward, blood gushing from his nose. 

Lance has gone still. Startlingly, scarily still, but Hunk can’t ask if he’s okay because he’s dodging a kick to the midsection only to be hit with an elbow to the jaw. His breath is visible as he groans in pain and he realizes he can see footprints in the frost that surrounds him. 

Keith’s distracted for a split second, glancing backward at Lance and he gets a heel slammed into his gut for his trouble. He drops, gasping for air and then everything just… stops. 

Ice spreads like wildfire from Lance’s feet, encasing the two women in spheres between one blink and the next. Keith gapes up at the clear ball in front of him, climbing to his feet with a grunt. 

Lance doesn’t seem to notice. Every muscle in his body is tense, coiled like a spring. His teeth are bared, his eyes narrowed, his blue eyes lit up like a jewel at the bottom of the ocean. The marks on his face seem darker, more severe, and Hunk takes a step back. Then another.

He gets a glimpse of colorful hair suspended in motion and realizes that he’s almost walked into his attacker. Her eyes are closed. She’s probably dead. 

Keith, for some reason, immediately rests his hands on the orb closest to him and blasts it with fire, trying to melt the ice. It doesn’t work- as soon as water forms, it refreezes, “Lance, you gotta let me through, you’ve got to stop this.”

“No,” Lance says in a hollow voice, “She hurt you.”

“You can’t _kill_ them Lance, this isn’t you.”  
“Isn’t it?” Lance growls. Hunk shivers and not just from the cold, “I’ve killed before. So have you. How is this any different?”

“It’s different because she’s my sister, Lance,” Keith sounds desperate, the flames pouring from his hands flickering red, yellow, orange, blue. Hunk lets out a suprised noise because he had no idea that Keith had another sibling, had any family other than Shiro, “She’s my sister!”

“She’s your-” Lance’s brow crinkles and he drops his hands, “I had a sister.”

“I know you did Lance, I know, so please save mine,” Keith’s out of breath, “Lance-”

The ice spheres burst like overly full gushers, and Keith abruptly cuts off the stream of flame. He lets the woman in front of him, the woman that’s apparently his sister-  _ that’s what the resemblance was oh my god-  _ fall to the ground with a splash. She sucks in a huge gulp of air, her chest heaving, but Keith doesn’t spare her a second glance now that she’s apparently out of danger. 

Instead, he hurries over to Lance, scoops him up bridal style. He gives Hunk a quick look, a look and a feeling through the bond that says ‘ _ I’m sorry, I’ll explain everything later.” _

“I told you we’d stop you,” Keith says out loud as he passes his sister, his face and voice showing none of the strain it must take to carry a semi-conscious Lance, “Should have listened.”

The woman doesn’t answer, too busy trembling on the ground in a puddle of water. Colorful chick isn’t moving, but Hunk can tell that’s she’s breathing at least. 

Keith books it down the hallway, Lance’s arms too limp for Hunk’s liking. He didn’t catch a glimpse of Lance’s face before Keith was already past him, but now, as Hunk jogs to catch up, he sees Lance’s eyes are half-lidded, the marks on his cheeks faded, “Is he okay?”

“He will be,” Keith says through gritted teeth, “He-”

Keith’s words cut off abruptly and he grunts, shock flitting over his features. A knife thuds into the wall at the far end of the hall, much further than any normal blade should have been able to travel. There’s blood on it, dripping to the white cement floor. 

Keith stumbles, and this seems to return some awareness to Lance. The water elemental shifts, swinging his legs free. He lands on the ground, palms down, and a massive sheet of ice builds from the floor to the ceiling, breaking through several walls. Lance doesn’t stop until it’s bursting through the ceiling and Keith taps his shoulder, “Lance, it’s good, we’re good.”

Hunk, who had been trying to contain his awe as he cranes his neck to look at this massive Game of Thrones style wall, redirects his attention with some effort. Keith has his hand clamped over his right shoulder, the spot where it connects to the base of the neck, just above the collarbone. Crimson leaks between his fingers, spilling across his bare torso. 

_ Another scar,  _ Hunk thinks a little hysterically. He can’t remember seeing Keith without a shirt on before. Now that he’s actually processing it, he’s a bit...concerned. Lance too, has a plethora of old injuries all over his torso. It’s a little like a wake-up call to remember that his two friends are, in their cores, soldiers. Maybe… maybe Hunk is one too, although he likes to think of himself as a peacemaker. 

“How bad?” Lance asks, standing in Keith’s way as he tries to continue moving. He’s wobbling, but on his feet.

“It’s a scratch,” Keith insists, ducking his head to avoid looking at Lance directly. 

Lance is stubborn. Has always been stubborn. So Hunk is not surprised when Lance pries Keith’s fingers away from the wound, sucking in a hissing breath, “That’s not a scratch.”

“I’ll have Coran look at it later,” Keith reasserts his grip on the gash. Lance lets him. 

“Promise?”

Hunk can’t see Lance’s face, but Keith’s guarded expression melts a little at something he finds there, “Promise.”

It’s not the interaction that Hunk had been expecting. This is weird. Really weird.  _ They’re a thing _ , Hunk thinks,  _ they’re definitely a thing. I’m calling total bullshit on Lance’s ‘ _ this is just sex _ ’. No way in hell.  _

They’re startled from their two second recovery by a massive pull of power. Hunk nearly falls to his knees but barely manages to hold on. It's Allura asking for their strength, for their abilities, and Hunk willingly gives it. Allura roars, “ _ Give me my daughter!” _

Without sparing a glance to check the intentions of the others, they all three race toward the sounds of a fight.

 

_ Pidge: _

Now:

She’s never had this before. 

She’s never had a virus infiltrating  _ her  _ system, a virus so complex and terrifying that she has to quarantine it. She can’t get rid of it. She just has to  _ contain  _ it, stop it from getting more information because she isn’t really sure how clean it from the system. 

She vaguely remembers Hunk interrupting her. She knows that Charlie is in danger, knows it because the others are pulling at her through the bond, pulling and tugging and making her hate herself, but if she doesn’t do this, if she doesn’t stay here, literally everyone else in the coalition is in danger. 

So she stays and she only cries for a minute. She takes deep, steadying breaths and then she does what she has to. When it’s done, when the virus is locked in it’s little box and she’s pretty sure it’s not getting out, she leans back in her chair, fully intending to race to wherever the others are. 

But then something pops up on the screen. Something that fills her heart both with hope and despair. 

It’s a note. A note from Lotor, written in binary. Giving her coordinates. 

It should be a simple thing, probably a location for where she can find Charlie, but if this is in the virus, there could be other information too. So she works her magic. 

She isn’t sure how much time passes, but once she stops treating the virus like… well, a virus, and more like a foreign information body she can mine for data, she makes a bit of headway. Pidge has to keep it on lockdown still, obviously, but she has some capacity to move within that, to make changes. 

And she finds a video. She isn’t sure if Lotor meant to leave that within her system, but its there. A video of Matt being broken out of a G.A.L.R.A. facility by rebels that look vaguely familiar. Matt, her brother, her family, isn’t in G.A.L.R.A. custody anymore. 

She stares at the screen for one breath. Two. Three. Four, then five. There’s an explosion somewhere in the compound. She blinks, takes off her glasses, pushes back from her desk and goes to help the others. 

She’ll find her brother. She will. But the team needs her. 

 

_ Allura _

**Now:**

“Eliza,” she breathes, her hands on the small girl’s shoulders, “I need you to do something for Momma.”

Eliza nods. There are tears on her little chubby cheeks and Allura hates herself for having to ask this. 

“I need you to go to your room and hide in your closet. I need you to stay there until Papa or I come and get you, okay?”

She shakes her head, gripping Allura’s wrist, “No-”

“Eliza, you have to do this, you have to stay hidden. Momma’s gotta go help the others, Uncle Keith and Uncle Hunk and Aunt Pidge and I’ve got to find your Papa. Please Liza, please, I love you and I need you to stay safe.”

Eliza stares up at her with Adam’s big brown eyes and Allura almost loses herself in a spiral of panic, but the team needs her. Hunk needs her, Shiro and Keith and Lance and Pidge and Coran, god they all need her-

“Okay,” Eliza whispers and Allura presses a kiss to her hairline.

Her little girl’s lower lip quavers for a second but then she takes off, sprinting back toward her bedroom and what Allura hopes is safety. She stands, feeling her spine straighten. She clenches her fists. Then she stalks to Shiro’s room. 

He’s still unconscious. She’s sure they probably dosed him with more than they’d given her, considering his height and weight. Normally, she might have been cautious, might have tried to be gentle, but they don’t have time for that. 

She slaps him, hard. He doesn’t stir. She slaps him again, and this time pushes power through the bond, making the blow both a physical and a mental one. 

He startles upright, his black hair mingling with the white strands at the front. He’s sluggish, slow, “Lura?”

“Your daughter is being kidnapped by Lotor as we speak,” she says, crisp and to the point, “ _ Lotor has Charlie.” _

Shiro’s on his feet in seconds. He’s unsteady, wavering, but she helps him stay upright as they stumble into the hallway together. 

“How long?” he asks, his words muddled with the effort it takes to form them. 

“I’m not sure. Minutes, probably,” she answers, grunting with the effort it takes to keep him from listing to the side, “I brought Hunk back, I’m not sure where everyone else is.”

“Pidge is in her lab,” Shiro sounds more alert by the second, “She’s busy. Keith, Lance and Hunk are on their way to Lotor. There’s something… off about Lance’s power, not sure what. Don’t know where Coran is.”

“Probably the infirmary,” she frowns, “You noticed the thing with Lance too?”

“It feels like…” he glances at her, then away, “Nevermind.”

“Feels like what?” She prods, “We find Coran, then get to the others?”

Shiro nods, but doesn’t answer her first question.

“Shiro, what does Lance’s power feel like?”

“It’s…” his brow furrows, “I had to take care of Keith once after the G.A.L.R.A. gave him power accelerants. He was really little, I don’t think he remembers it, but I think it would have felt like this, had we been connected. He had no control; it was up and down so quickly I couldn’t keep track sometimes.”

“Why would they give Lance a power accelerant?” Allura wonders aloud, “It doesn’t make any sense.”

Shiro just shrugs, looking troubled. 

They’re quiet until they get to the infirmary. There doesn’t seem to be anything  wrong, at least not until Allura pushes the curtain aside with her foot. There's an overturned medical tray on the floor, something that seems out of place for the order that Coran normally keeps this place in. It takes her a second, but then she sees the foot hidden partway behind one of the cots. There’s a smattering of blood on the concrete and Allura’s heart slides into her throat. 

“Coran?” she immediately lets go of Shiro, who steadies himself against the wall, “Coran? Answer me! Coran!”

She doesn't remember running to him, but she must have. She flips him over and tries not to panic at the lump on his forehead, the blood trickling from his mouth. She thinks the worst for a horrible, horrible moment, and then he groans, shifting out of her grip so that he can spit blood on the ground. 

“Allura?” he asks, sounding shocked, “How did you get here?”

“I walked,” she says, too relieved to think of a better response, “Are you okay?”

He grunts and gingerly touches the knot just above his left eye, “The last thing I remember, the medical tray was floating on its own and hit me in the face. Quite an odd thing to remember.”

“It is, yes,” she agrees, wondering if he’s got a concussion, “Are you alright to walk? Lotor has Charlie, we have to hurry.”

At her last words, Coran pushes to his feet, “I’ll be fine, princess! I’ll take on Lotor myself if I have to!”

On impulse, she pulls Coran into a tight hug, ignoring his quiet  _ oof.  _ “I don’t think that will be necessary, but I appreciate the thought Coran.”

He smooths her hair down and kisses the top of her head very lightly. It’s so similar to what she’d done to Eliza a few minutes before that she feels tears prick the backs of her eyes. She refuses to let them fall, pulling away from Coran with a small sniff. 

“Lets go get them,” she whispers and Coran smiles sadly. 

Shiro leads the way as they re-enter the hallway, “Keith, Lance and Hunk are somewhere in the right side of the compound. They’re… looking for signs of where Lotor might have taken Charlie. They think he’s probably gone by now.”

She can’t feel any of that. She wonders, maybe, if it’s because he’s the unoffical leader of this whole thing. She’s in charge of the coalition, and he of Voltron. It suits them, “I’m not so sure he’s left yet. He always had a tendency to like to watch as his plans come together.”

“Where would he be then?” Shiro asks, and she bites her lip. 

He would have brought a team- he wouldn’t have been able to do something this large scale on his own. If he’s not alone that means he would have had to get everyone to Arus somehow. She can’t see him pulling up in a car or truck, something normal. He’s got a flare for the dramatic, and that means some kind of helicopter, probably. He’s have to land that somewhere open, somewhere easy to return to. 

“The parking lot,” she says, something in her gut telling her she’s made the right choice, “He’ll take her there. He’s not alone though, and I’m not sure what kind of team he would have brought.”

Shiro’s expression is grim, but not hopeless as he grips her hand for one short moment, squeezing her fingers. She trusts him totally and completely, as he trusts her. If anyone can take down Lotor, its the two of them. And Coran, of course. She can’t forget about him. 

They make it to the parking lot in record time, all things considered. Allura shoves the door open with her shoulder, blinking in the sudden darkness of the night. She’d covered most of Arus’ windows with blackout paper to prevent them from being found by the G.A.L.R.A. and the light of the moon was about the only thing to see by. 

The ice rink Lance made comes into focus, now nothing more than a puddle. It hadn’t been cold enough to skate recently. It isn’t that that makes her heart squeeze, it’s the fact that Lotor’s got his helicopter parked right overtop of it. He’s taken a place that used to be happiness and joy and turned it into terrible memory she’s never going to be able to get rid of. 

Lotor’s crouched in the open bay door of the copter, one hand firmly clasped in Charlie’s hair, the other on her upper arm. He’s saying something to her, something Allura can’t hear. 

“Lotor,” Allura calls, hands on her hips. Shiro flanks her on one side, Coran on the other, “Literally no one asked for this family reunion.”

“Cousin,” Lotor shouts back over the whirring sounds of helicopter blades slowly beginning to turn, “I don’t believe your opinion on this matter is really necessary.”

“It is, when you have my daughter.”

“ _ Your  _ daughter?” Lotor laughs. It’s not a good sound, a kind sound. It’s dark and nasty and has anger sparking in her gut, “That’s hilarious.”

Shiro takes a step forward, violence in his fists, his shoulders, the line of his jaw, but Allura holds out a hand to stop him, “I’m giving you one chance Lotor. One chance, only because you’re family. Give me my daughter back, and  _ maybe  _ I won’t kill you.”

Lotor cackles again, and Allura reaches out toward the team, pulling their power into herself. She can feel the marks under her eyes begin to glow white hot. It’s not like usual, where she has to take energy from the others for herself. They’re giving it to her, she realizes. Sending it to her. 

She can see the moment Lotor panics. He shoves Charlie behind him, into the arms of a woman with a cat perched on her shoulder, and then he throws something that shakes the ground as it explodes. Flames lick up the sides of Arus, debris flies, bits of concrete pattering from the sky like rain, and she doesn’t waver. 

“ _ Give me my daughter,”  _ she yells, and it echoes across the parking lot, reverberates through the bond. Lotor will not be leaving with Charlie. Not today, not any day. 

Lotor gestures to whoever’s driving the copter. It begins to lift off the ground, but Allura reaches out with one hand. She can’t risk damaging the helicopter, not yet, not while Charlie’s inside it. Vines burst from the ground, reaching inside the copter. They snake between Lotor’s legs, wrapping around Charlie. The little girl doesn’t scream, too used to seeing Pidge use foliage as her primary weapon. 

Lotor however, doesn’t have the same calm reaction. He begins to slash and hack at the vines, only to find that they dissolved into water. Allura harnesses that water into a fist, pulling Charlie out of the grip of the woman with the cat. Vines continue to spread, tearing the blade from Lotor’s grip even as he struggles. 

“Allura!” Lotor cries as Allura comes closer and closer to freeing her daughter, “We need to talk!”

“I believe we just did." With one final yank, she captures Charlie in a watery sphere that absorbs her up to the neck. She’s free of the helicopter, floating in midair with the help of Lance and Shiro’s power. 

Allura hesitates for only the briefest of seconds, and then she drives a spike of solid rock through the center of the copter. It tears through the metal like paper, spearing the bottom of the machine like a stick through a kabob. 

There’s another  _ ka-boom.  _ Glass shatters and a hot bolt screams past Allura’s cheek. She and Shiro throw up a shield of solid air to protect themselves, Charlie and Coran as Lotor’s only means of escape shudders into flame. 

The door opens behind them and Hunk, Lance and Keith stumble out into the night air, all of them coughing and covered in soot. If they don’t hurry, Arus is going to go up in flames right along with Lotor. 

She drops the shield and Shiro follows her lead. He glances between her and the blazing mess that used to be Lotor. He wants to say something, clearly, but instead jogs over to his daughter, catching her as Allura releases her from the water with a sigh. 

“Did you get her?” Keith rasps. He’s shirtless and bleeding. Hunk’s clutching his nose, crimson dripping from his chin, and Lance looks like he’s seconds away from passing out. 

“We… did, what happened-” she starts to ask, but there’s a bright flash and she’s blinded temporarily. She blinks rapidly, trying to clear her vision. When she can see, finally, she almost wishes she couldn’t. 

Two women stand in front of the wreck of the copter, one of them holding Lotor, the other gripping a large woman Allura can’t remember seeing before. There’s the glint of knives, knives that fly through the air with unerring accuracy despite Allura’s scream of warning. 

They land with a sickening  _ thud, thud, thud,  _ and there’s another flash. 

Allura’s not anymore ready for this one than she had been the first, and this time when she regains her sight, Lotor’s gone. 

 

_ Coran _

**Now:**

Coran watches Allura unleash the elemental power of Voltron in awe. He’s never seen any of the team wield this kind of ability before, but honestly, if anyone had asked him, he would have said he wasn’t surprised she was the one who managed it. 

What he is surprised about is the fact that Lotor seems to have some kind of teleportation device, because one second he’s standing in front of them with singed hair and soot covering his delicate face and then he and his three teammates are gone, vanished like they never were there in the first place.

Their disappearance is like a spell breaking and everyone begins to move at once. 

“Shiro!” Keith rushes forward, sliding to his knees on the pavement next to his brother. When had Shiro fallen? Coran doesn’t remember seeing that. 

“Oh god,” Allura moans next to him, and Coran flinches when he sees the blood beginning to puddle around Shiro’s body, sees the red staining Keith’s hands as he babbles something over Shiro’s prone form. 

Charlie’s begun to cry hysterically as she clutches at her father’s arm, the arm that had been previously wrapped around her. Shiro seemed to have mostly protected her as he fell, but Coran can still see some scrapes along the side of her face. 

Lance sinks to his knees but Coran doesn’t have time to worry about him as he races to Shiro’s side. There’s a blade in his upper right shoulder, his stomach and his left hip. Nothing fatal, or at least, they won’t be with Coran’s help. 

“Keith, I need you to pull out the blade closest to you. Be careful not to do any more damage. As soon as they’re out I can start to heal him, alright?”

He doesn’t want to heal too much of the damage, to avoid the chance of infection or if Shiro goes into shock, but he needs to get him stable and keep him that way. Right now, he’s gripping Keith’s wrist so tightly the other man’s fingers are white, his breathing harsh and uneven, his eyes glassy and filmed with pain. Charlie continues to wail behind him and he hopes Allura gets over here sooner rather than later. 

When he glances up, she seems to be busy with Lance, who right at the worst time possible, seems to give into the power accelerant. 

“God  _ damn it!”  _ Keith shouts, his voice hoarse, as Lance’s eyes erupt into a molten glow of blue fire. Lance is still on his knees, hunched over, his hands clutching at the pavement. 

It begins to rain. It’s gentle at first, a mist, but it quickly turns into a downpour. Keith pulls the knife from his brother’s side as carefully as Coran would have, despite the anger in the tilt to his eyebrows. The rain plasters his hair to his forehead, makes him squint, makes the blood trickling from the gash in his shoulder turn into the Red Sea. 

The knives are out. Coran yanks the fabric away from the stab wounds, pouring power into Shiro as he wills the flesh to knit itself together. Not to heal completely, but to speed things along. Stabilization. Something,  _ anything  _ to keep him alive. 

Shiro’s breathing steadies and then slows. Keith panics, Coran can see it on his face, but Coran quickly assures him, “He just passed out, Keith, he’s fine, he’s going to be alright.”

“Are you sure?” Keith asks, sounding small and vulnerable. His voice cracks and Coran wants to hug him. 

“Yes, I’m sure,” Coran answers. It’s hard to be heard over the pounding of the rain and the roar of the fire, but he thinks Keith hears him. 

The flames still eat away at Arus. Coran can feel the heat of them against his back, but he doesn’t know what to do about it. He doesn’t know what to do about Charlie bawling behind him either. 

He takes a deep breath and focuses on what he can do. Keith’s arm is bleeding pretty badly, it’s a deep cut, but not life threatening. Lance is slowly regaining control. He looks exhausted, but there’s no visible injuries. Likely he just need to rest. Allura’s got a slash on her cheek from the explosion, but she seems to be alright. Hunk’s nose looks broken, even from here, and there’s some significant bruising, but he’ll likely live. 

In the middle of his assessment, Pidge appears in the doorway. One of her hands comes up to cover her mouth and she races forward, passing by Allura, Lance and Hunk to stand by Shiro’s side. 

“Oh my god is he okay? Is he going to be okay?” she asks, borderline hysterical and Coran nods.

“He’ll be fine. We should get him inside.”

“But the fire…” Pidge trails off, gesturing to it. Keith glances down at his unconscious brother, at his crying niece and then untangles Shiro’s grip from his arm.

“It’s not going out with the rain like it should,” Keith says lowly, “There’s something odd about it.”

“Can you-” Pidge starts, then breaks off, biting her lip, “Oh god, the whole neighborhood’s going to go up.”

“No it’s not,” Keith states this like a fact. He stares at Charlie for a long moment. She doesn’t react to his gaze, “Pidge, can you take care of Charlotte for a minute?”

She nods, her eyes wide. Coran keeps feeding energy into Shiro, watching as the second wound begins to heal, just enough to lessen Coran’s concern. 

Keith walks backward away from everyone. He reaches one hand out toward the raging inferno that’s overtaken a corner of the Arus compound. Nothing happens at first, and then the fire begins to funnel toward Keith, a blazing tornado that ends in his palm. He absorbs it, all of it, pulling the pulsing heat into his own body. Coran has never seen this before had no idea that he could do this. He has a brief memory of Keith telling Shiro  _"I could have stopped it. You know I could have."_ And something about the way Keith had always reacted to the power suppressants makes a little more sense now. 

Once it’s gone, once Arus is a smoking black mess instead of actively burning down, Keith calls, “Lance?”

Lance’s glowing blue eyes snap to Keith. 

“Let go,” Keith says. It’s so quiet that Coran has to read his lips to understand the words. Smoke wafts from between his teeth. His eyes erupt into a burning red that somehow matches Lance’s despite their fundamental differences. 

Lance relaxes, all the tension seeming to bleed out through the steam drifting lazily off his skin and then the sky opens up. Coran has time to wonder if a solid sheet of water falling from that height would be enough to kill them all when Keith opens his mouth and… breathes fire. It bursts from his hands too, nearly white hot in it's intensity. 

It’s the weirdest thing Coran’s seen for a while and he just watched Lotor disappear in front of his eyes. 

Flames pour from Keith, blanketing the sky. Fire meets water and there’s an explosion of a different kind. Steam billows out from somewhere far above their heads. Coran can see in flashes and muted colors. There’s red and blue and then nothing but a sea of white clouds. 

Silence settles around him. Pidge is right next to him, he can hear her, but can’t see her. Shiro’s still under his hands, but Coran knows he’s alive by the connection he’s sustaining. 

“Coran?” Pidge’s hand suddenly appears, “Coran we should get inside. We can get bandages and clean Shiro’s wounds in the infirmary.”

“Yes,” Coran hears himself saying. It’s like in the quiet of the fog, everything about the last hour catches up with him. Being hit in the head by an invisible something, watching Allura single handedly annihilate her cousin, watching Shiro fall, watching Lance lose all control. He hadn’t been sure about that last one until just this second but he knows now that’s what it was. That’s what Lance looks like when his power takes over. 

He shudders. If Keith hadn’t been there, if he hadn’t-

He doesn’t let himself finish that thought. It’s not worth it. 

Somehow, he hoists Shiro up. He can’t lift him all the way, but he can drag him, and he does so, clumsily following Pidge toward the entrance. He doesn’t know how she finds it in the thick mist, but she does, carefully tugging him along. 

They’re inside and back into visibility before he knows it. Pidge rushes off to grab supplies as soon as they’re in the door and Coran realizes he’s the last one there. 

“Shiro’s alright?” Keith asks immediately. Coran can’t find him for a brief moment until he realizes he’s sitting down, leaning against one of the walls while Lance, a completely normal and in control Lance, crouches next to him, putting pressure on his shoulder. 

“Shiro will be fine, my boy,” Coran musters up the energy to say, “He just needs a few days on bed rest and he’ll be up and in business again.”

Keith settles back and Lance hums in disapproval, “Will you sit still now?”

“So sorry I prioritize my brother’s life over a scratch,” Keith snaps and Lance fixes him with a glare. 

“For the last time, this is _not_ a  _ scratch,”  _ Lance says, an intense worry uncutting his angry tone, “You’re bleeding everywhere. Would you let someone take care of you for once?”

“What about you, huh?” Keith retorts, carefully pulling one of Lance’s hands away from his shoulder, “Don’t think pinkie fingers are supposed to face that direction.”

“You are… right,” Lance says slowly, “Fine. As soon as Pidge gets back with the bandages, I’ll let you splint it,  _ after  _ I put stitches in your shoulder.”

Allura carefully examines Hunk’s nose, sliding the bones back into place with a nasty _click_ __ that has everyone wincing. Hunk makes a low noise in the back of his throat, but is otherwise quiet, letting Allura mop up some of the blood on his face with a soaking corner of her shirt. Charlie went with Pidge, and the two of them return a minute later, their arms full of medical supplies. They stop at Coran and Shiro first, Charlie sniffling at the sight of her unconscious father. She doesn’t outright bawl anymore. She seems to know she has a job to do as she helps Pidge hand out bandages. 

When Allura sees Pidge return, she stands abruptly and rushes out. No one questions. They all know she's going to get Eliza, whether because of the bond or because, like Coran, they can piece it together.

Pidge helps Hunk clean up and bandages his nose. She instructs Charlie to bring the needle, thread, and a thick wad of gauze over to Lance and Keith, who haven’t moved, both of them still bickering lightly. 

When Charlie approaches, Keith shifts. Lance glances at him, his mouth open to give what Coran assumes is a reprimand, but then something passes between them, something Coran doesn't recognize as ever happening between them before and Lance relents. Charlie drops the medical supplies as Keith tugs her into him with one arm, clutching her tightly against his chest. She lets out a little sob as she sits in his lap, her nightgown adding a layer of Keith’s blood over top of Shiro’s. Charlie doesn’t seem to care. 

Coran wants to help, but he’s afraid to let go of Shiro, afraid that if he does, the situation will dissolve back into pain and terror. So he doesn’t let go. He holds on and tries not to let it hurt him when Lance murmurs, “Alright, let’s get this stitched up, shall we?”

 

_ Lotor _

**Now** :

He reappears with a gasp on the floor of his hideout. His generals do the same, all except Narti. 

He hadn’t meant to leave her behind. He hadn’t meant for her to get caught in the flames, but it had happened and he can’t regret that fact. They’d done what they’d come for. 

“I expect Voltron will be contacting us soon,” Lotor croaked as soon as he was able to stand. Acxa, Ezor and Zethrid stared at him with equal parts surprise and anger. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Acxa rounded on him, her hand tightly gripping her pistol holster. Ever since she’d returned from that mission he’d sent her on, the one where she’d reconnected with her brother, she’d been quicker to doubt him, quicker to challenge him. He shoved the thought aside. She was loyal to him. Always had been, always would be, “We didn’t get the girl!”

“And Narti is dead!” Ezor shouts, tears pricking her blue eyes. She’s always been the emotional one. 

“Her sacrifice was not in vain,” Lotor drawled. He pulled the needle from his pack, the empty needle who’s contents were now in the arm of one small child. He remembered her now. Charlie, they called her. Lotor knew her as K-31, the third generation of mutants the G.A.L.R.A. had taken for experimentation. 

He hadn’t known who she was when he’d taken her. He’d thought he was taking the second daughter of Takashi Shirogane. He’d had no idea he’d been kidnapping the spawn of the very same G.A.L.R.A. captive he’d been gathering information from for years. Keith Kogane’s daughter. Interesting. 

No, his plan had not necessarily worked out as intended, but this way, he’ll end up with much more data. More data, and more fun. 

His generals eyed the needle in his hand with a variety of reactions. Ezor, delight, Zethrid, confusion, and Acxa, horror. Ah yes. This would be interesting indeed. 


	22. Keith: Leave Like That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ya know, you have the prettiest eyes,” Lance said, in a very intent tone of voice that was so different from his rambling speech that it jerked Keith back to awareness, “Like… the sky. Not like day time sky, like night time sky, when the sun’s doing it’s thing and it’s just there ya know, in the morning. Right when it’s there.”  
> Keith didn’t know what to say. He’d had enough alcohol that Lance’s words seemed almost poetic and he awkwardly patted Lance’s cheek, “Thanks dude.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! This got away from me a little bit. Have some Keith history and Shiro/Adam!  
> Please let me know if you notice inconsistencies or anything- it is much more difficult than you would think to keep everyone's history in line with each other's.  
> Hope you enjoy!

**Twenty Six Years Ago:**

He doesn’t know who his mother is. 

He doesn’t know her name. Why she left. If she’s alive even. 

All he knows is that he was born in the home of his father and mother, on the couch. They registered his birth with the hospital later, got him a certificate. He’s never seen it, that evidence that he has a family, that he was born at all rather than made from a test tube. 

It’s something that haunts him, sometimes, when it’s late at night and he’s had one of those days. 

He has no proof that his mother was real, that what his father told him actually happened. 

No proof that he’s actually human. 

 

**Twenty Three Years Ago:**

There was a time when he was happy. A time before his power manifested. A time before his dad died. 

His dad didn't let him go into town for some reason. Whenever they need something, his dad made him stay in the house. Sometimes for hours. He didn’t like it, but if he did like his dad told him to and stayed in his room, they’d go on a ride as a reward after. 

They’d take the bike out and he’d get to feel the wind in his face. He loved every second of it.

 

**Twenty Two Years Ago:**

One day, when his dad went into town, he didn’t come back. 

And Keith was on his own for a long time. Longer than he’d ever been. 

He made a sandwich for dinner. He knew his dad would be upset that he’d gone where he wasn’t supposed to have, but he was hungry. So hungry. 

He slept on the rug in the kitchen, waiting for his papa to come back. The next morning, he made himself another sandwich. 

When someone came for him, early the next morning, it wasn’t his papa. It was someone else, a man who said he was here to take care of him. 

Keith didn’t know this man, but he had his dad’s jacket and knew Keith’s name and he gave him food. He was hungry, so hungry and tired too, and when the man asked if he wanted to go somewhere safe, where there was a bed and food and other little kids for him to play with, he agreed. 

 

**Twenty One Years Ago:**

He thought for a long time that his dad would come back. 

It wasn’t until they’d started locking him in, until they’d trapped him with another little girl who’s name was Acxa and he kind of thought was nice, that they told him. He’d fought them, tried to escape between their legs, bit them and screamed and tried to claw out their eyes. They called him a “half-breed”. He didn’t know what that meant. He didn’t care. He just wanted his papa. 

It was after such a day, a day where he’d tried to run away four separate times, that they’d finally told him. 

_ Your father’s dead,  _ they’d spat,  _ he died because he wouldn’t tell us where you were. Do you want that to happen to you too? That’s what we do to those that don’t cooperate. _

He hadn’t believed them, not at first, but they’d showed him the video. He doesn’t remember it, what they showed him, not exactly. He knows his father’s dead. That’s what’s important. 

He also doesn’t remember exactly what happened next except that when he’d come to, the room had been up in flames and he’d been untouched. 

 

**Twenty Years Ago:**

He figured out, eventually, that the girl trapped with him was his sister. Half-sister. She was almost but not quite three years older than him, born before his mother met her father. She was the one to tell him all this. How Acxa knew anything, Keith wasn’t really sure, but she hadn’t given him a reason to mistrust her yet. 

He held her hand sometimes when she cried. When they turned her hair purple and her eyes yellow. It didn’t last, but it scared her all the same. She was so docile after that, so terrified that they’d changed her into something that wasn’t human that Keith didn’t have the heart to tell her she already was. Mutants weren’t human, and as much as Acxa wanted to be one of them, wanted to belong with the G.A.L.R.A. she’d never truly fit. They both had the mark on their shoulders, the mark that said they were part of the organization, but Keith knew better. They were property, not members. 

The G.A.L.R.A. had been trying to develop power suppressants for years, and Keith presented the perfect opportunity to test them. It was to help him, they said, to assist with power control that he clearly didn’t have. They had his mother’s records on file, his father’s too. He was the perfect subject on which to observe changes. 

Acxa was tested as well, but in a different way. She was used for more generic

studies, trying to divine the source of her mutation. Keith’s mother had been human, he learned, and his father had not. Both of Acxa’s parents were G.A.L.R.A. Why’d she have the ability to do the things she could then? Keith certainly didn’t know. He didn’t care either. 

Most days, he was too tired to care about much of anything, except how much pain he was going to be in when the new suppressants didn’t work. There were good days, and there were bad days. 

And the worst day, when they finally got it right, when he was finally cut off from his power for good. He’d only had it for a year, but it was like losing his source of oxygen. 

Until he got used to that too, just like everything else. 

 

**Eighteen Years Ago:**

He had nothing else to offer them. He was eight years old. They had his power

managed with the suppressant, but no matter how hard they’d tried, they couldn’t make it work on others. Not even Acxa. They’d managed to build other things from studying him and his sister, but this, the thing they wanted most, they couldn’t have. 

They started separating him and Acxa. They’d grown too close, he supposed. He missed her. She’d acted like a big sister should, or at least like he thought one should. She’d protected him and he’d protected her and she’d braided his hair when it got past his shoulders. She’d sung him a song when he’d had nightmares and he’d tried to do the same, even though she mostly just laughed at him. He didn’t have a good voice, he guessed. She’d never tell him if that was the reason she laughed or not, but he was pretty sure he was right. 

 Then one night the door to his cell was left open. 

He’d been with the G.A.L.R.A. for four years. He’d never had an opportunity

like this, despite the thousands of times he’d tried to get free.

This time when he ran, no one followed. He made it far, into the next town, before the police picked him up. They asked him all sorts of questions and kept him locked in what they called the interrogation room. No one knew what to do with him. His fear that they’d give him back to the G.A.L.R.A. faded as talks of the foster system began. 

He was put in an orphanage. He didn’t have his own room, and he had to share a bathroom with six other boys but it was probably the best thing he experienced in a long, long time. No needles. No experiments. Nothing that hurt except when one of the boys knocked him down in the playground and hit him. 

It took a few days for him to start to feel it. It started with a weakness in his limbs, a tiredness that earned him a slap from the director of the group home. He was supposed to be cleaning his space, but he couldn’t make his legs do what he told them too. 

Then came the fever and the sickness. He had nightmares, nightmares that Acxa wasn’t there to pull him out of with her soft singing and fingers in his hair. His heart ached that he’d just left her behind. He couldn’t have saved her, he knew that, but it hurt all the same. 

The director brought him to the hospital. It was there that the fires started. His body blazed constantly. He was barely aware of where he was, or who was there, but when he finally started to come to, he was being kept in the morgue, now empty of bodies. Someone was standing over him, injecting something into the flesh of his arm, their entire body covered in protective gear. 

“He’s some kind of monster,” he heard the doctor say to someone, “I’ve never seen a mutant like this before. He has to be controlled.”

“He will be,” the director said, his voice squeaky.  _ Terrified,  _ Keith’s brain filled in,  _ He’s scared of you.  _ “Tell no one of what you’ve seen.”

 

**Sixteen Years Ago:**

He ended up in a different group home. And then in a foster home. And then in another foster home. And another. 

He was in his fifth home in two years, six if he counted the G.A.L.R.A. facility. He didn’t. 

The complaints were all the same. He was too volatile, too angry. He fought his foster siblings and tried to run away. 

He never got far. He wouldn’t have fought if they just let him leave. All he wanted was to find his father’s grave, was that too much to ask? And he never hit someone unless provoked first, he only ever retaliate when the other kids made comments about his parents or mutants or the parents tried to make him take more of the suppressant than he needed because they just wanted him to be  _ quiet.  _ He knew by now that the G.A.L.R.A. had their hand in this somehow. That they were the ones giving the state the suppressants to give to the foster families, to keep him under control. 

He only put up with it because of what had happened the last time he’d stopped taking them. 

There was one day, when it was entirely too much, that he went further than he’d ever been before. He took off across the desert. This time, it wasn’t on foot, it was in his foster mother’s truck. He could see her screaming at him from the front porch as he pressed the pedal with a stick. Keith had no idea how to drive, none at all, but he managed well enough for a ten year old with zero previous experience. 

He got all the way into the next county. He was pretty sure that was where his dad had come into town all those years ago, where his dad never returned from. He made it to the city center. It was only when he stopped for directions, when he hopped out of the car all on his own that the police stopped him and he was, forcefully, returned to his foster home. 

“I just want to see where my dad’s buried!” he’d raged. 

“Your dad’s dead, kid,” the officer sighed, exasperated. This was not the first time he’d dropped Keith off at the social services building, “I think it’d be best if you moved on.”

 

**Fourteen Years Earlier:**

Keith did not ‘move on’. 

Instead, he got kicked out of another foster home, and two different schools before he ended up at a group home for ‘troubled kids’. It was just the adult’s way of saying that no one wanted to foster him anymore, let alone adopt him. He was too much of a risk. So they stuck him in a home and prayed that they were lucky, that Keith wouldn’t burn this one down this time. 

Although, in his defense, he hadn’t been trying to set the pole barn alight. No one had been inside, so it wasn’t as if it was a big deal. 

That hadn’t been how his… what was it, fifth? Sixth? Foster family had seen it. So he was back here. Twelve years old and already too old for anyone to give a crap about him. 

He accepted it. He didn’t want to go back to the G.A.L.R.A. facility. He did his best to lay low because they’d threatened, once, to send him there if he wasn’t careful. 

So he was. He was very, very careful. No running away, no trying to find his father’s grave.

Nothing out here could be so bad as being in there. 

 

**Thirteen Years Ago:**

He’d thought he was doing well. But he heard them. He wasn’t supposed to have- he was supposed to be sleeping, like all the other thirteen year old boys, but he’d been thirsty. 

He’d gotten up for a glass of water, and while he was in the hallway, he heard them talking about him. About how they were considering a possible transfer to the G.A.L.R.A. rehabilitation center nearby. It wasn’t conventional, they knew, wasn’t regulation, might not even be legal, but  _ ‘we’re not equipped to handle him here. He’d be much better off somewhere they can control him, maybe even get rid of that power of his. He’ll never be anything if he can’t handle his own mutation.” _

Keith didn’t sleep that night. He didn’t sleep the next night either. He considered all possible options and realized that… he had none. They’d find him, no matter where he went. 

He had to try anyway. 

So when a man came to his school, when he left his car unlocked in the parking lot, Keith took it. The other kids listened to the speech, about how they too could be heroes. That wasn’t a possibility for Keith. He knew it, his classmates knew it, his teacher knew it. Hell, this man probably did too. 

So he waited, and waited, and waited until they were let out for lunch and thankfully the man’s truck was still there. Instead of going to the lunchroom, Keith snuck out the side entrance and hotwired the vehicle. 

No one noticed it was gone for a long time. He thought about getting to the next state, creating a new identity, something,  _ anything  _ to keep the G.A.L.R.A. from finding him, but he knew it was futile. The tattoo on his shoulder burned as if to remind him of that fact. 

Instead, he drove the next county over. He found the graveyard on his own- he’d been sneaking internet time on the school computers, researching where a grave-marker might be. He parked the car well enough to avoid suspicion and then took off through the cemetery, wandering through the hundreds of pathways until he found it. 

_ Tex Kogane,  _ the headstone read. It had his dad’s birthdate and the day he died. Nothing else. There wasn’t a quote, no ‘ _ loving father’ _ engraved on the stone. It was plain and worn but Keith was just grateful there was something here at all, that he was here, finally, after all these years. 

It wasn’t the police that found him. He’d been expecting sirens and loud noise and officers shouting at him to  _ remain where you are!  _ Instead, it was the man from the school, the one with short black hair and kind gray eyes. 

“You’re Keith Kogane, aren’t you,” the man asked. It wasn’t a question. 

Keith nodded. He couldn’t raise his head, let this man see that he was crying, that there were tears on his face, but he couldn’t stop the ways his shoulders shook. He was going back there, to the G.A.L.R.A. His father was dead, his mother left him. He had no one, nothing, except whatever punishment awaited him back at that awful facility. 

“You’re an orphan.” Again, not a question, “I am too. I’m Takashi Shirogane,

but you can call me Shiro.”

This was not what Keith had been expecting when he stole this man’s car, “What do you want?”

“I just want to talk to you. The police are going to be here soon, and you’ll have to go with them,” Keith bristled, “But wait, listen to me, I was looking over your records before I came here. You’ve got a lot of power kid, a lot of potential. I can’t understand why no one’s registered you as a mutant yet, how they’ve managed to keep you under such close wraps but I think you could be incredible.”

He’d never heard his mutation described like that before and he paused, glancing up at Shiro, “What?”

“You’re quick on your feet, you’re strong, you’ve been through more than most of the kids in that school could even dream of. Not to mention that your power is off the charts. If you… if you want another chance, a chance to be something,  _ someone  _ I’d like to give it to you.”

It took Keith a second to process this, to understand what this man was telling him, “Why would you do that?”

“Because you remind me a lot of me when I was your age,” Shiro smiled sadly, one hand reaching out to Keith to help him up, “I’m here recruiting kids anyway and I think you’d be a perfect candidate.”

This was a pivotal moment. Keith could accept the help of the man in front of him, take his chances, or he could go to the G.A.L.R.A. facility. 

The decision was easy. He snagged Shiro’s hand, letting the older man pull him to his feet. 

“Keith, I need you to do everything I say, okay? That’s the only way we both get out of this,” Shiro patted him on the shoulder, “I know you don’t have a reason to, but I need you to trust me.”

Weirdly enough, Keith did.

After that, a lot of things changed. Shiro was still in high school, his last year, but he was eighteen and had his own house. He has got a good paying job too, and lived right by the high school he wanted Keith to start going to next year. 

The group home was reluctant to let him spend a few nights at Shiro’s a month. Those nights turned into every other weekend. Shiro drove him to his middle school classes in the morning and said goodbye and even made him lunch. 

The best part was, that with Shiro watching out for him, they couldn’t send him to the G.A.L.R.A. facility. He thought, maybe, that Shiro knew that, was aware of the circumstances, but he couldn’t be sure. Keith sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one to tell him. 

Keith got to meet Allura Altea and her father Alfor one weekend. Shiro explained that Allura was his best friend, that he was close with Alfor, worked in his hero firm even and Keith almost had a heart attack right there on the porch. Shiro laughed at him for hours after, mocking his terrified expression until Keith punched him in the chest so hard that he wheezed instead of chuckled. He’d met Allura once or twice when she drove him and Shiro to school a week that Shiro’s car was in the shop but he hadn’t known she was Allura  _ Altea.  _

Even though he only spent every other weekend with Shiro that first year, he thought that it was probably the most defining year of their relationship. Weekend after weekend, Shiro showed up, leaning against the side of his car with a big smile on his face. Weekend after weekend, Shiro worked with him in the backyard, showing him how to harness his elemental power. There wasn’t much he could do with the suppressants in his system- something Shiro didn’t know about- but the man worked with him anyway. He was patient, and kind and despite the fact that Keith never expected him to be there, he was. Every time. 

 

**Twelve Years Ago:**

A lot happened the year he turned fourteen. 

He went to high school. It wasn’t Shiro’s high school, wasn’t the place he’d attended to watch Shiro’s graduation, but that didn’t matter. It was a relatively prestigious regular high school in the area. Specially picked by Shiro because it was a sister school to the hero course Shiro had been in and yet allowed Keith to remain somewhat anonymous. 

Keith had been enrolled in Shiro’s high school, but that was before the G.A.L.R.A. began appearing in the news, before there was restrictions on power use, on heros. Shiro started his real job that year, as a full time hero, but as he said, he’d rather have Keith safe than be famous.  _ And besides,  _ he’d commented,  _ this way you get to have a private life with your secret identity.  _

Keith didn’t much care because the school Shiro picked was a boarding school. Which meant he got to move out of the group home. He had a roommate named James Griffen and while he was still in the foster system, they’d essentially relinquished their rights to the school. The school which Shiro had significant influence in, significant enough influence that as Shiro explained it,  _ he  _ was now Keith’s parental authority.

He said it much too smugly for Keith to think it was entirely true, but it was true enough and that was what mattered. Keith had never thought, back when he was trapped by the G.A.L.R.A. that he’d ever end up with a nineteen year old older brother who made him terrible PB&J (how does someone mess that up?) and sang to all the oldies with the windows down and checked up on him every day the first week of classes. It was enough that sometimes the G.A.L.R.A. felt more like a dream. Enough that sometimes they felt too damn close, like they would take this all from him if he wasn’t careful. 

Enough that sometimes, when he was alone and lonely, he wondered what kind of older sister Acxa might have been if she’d been allowed to be his family. 

He wasn’t ready for the things that changed that year, but they changed anyway. The first few weeks in the dorms went great- he and James got along okay, and he spent every weekend with Shiro. Shiro let him use the spare bike he had in the garage despite the fact that he was only fourteen and wasn’t supposed to know how to drive one, but hey what the police didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. Allura came and watched, and after they’d gotten their energy out on the bikes, Shiro would practice with him. He still thought Keith could be a hero, that he could use his fire for good and Keith didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise. 

But then James saw him with Shiro, and something shifted. It was like it suddenly became a comparison between them- James seemed to consider Keith’s friendship with Shiro to be an unfair advantage. He no longer seemed to think Keith was cool- instead James used all the same things he used to think were impressive against Keith. Like the fact that he didn’t have parents to boss him around. Like the fact that his power was a little uncontrollable. Like the fact that he was totally alone in the world with no one to care about him. 

After the first time Keith hit him, Shiro sat him down. They had a long talk about what it meant to be in this program, that Keith had promised to do better. He asked what provoked Keith and Keith said it was nothing. 

Shiro didn’t seem to believe him, but he didn’t really have a choice. 

James stole his school books, and Keith retaliated by beating him senseless with his backpack. Those books were expensive and Shiro had bought them with his own money. That was another trip to the principal's office and the threat of expulsion. 

He tried to be good. He really did. But then James started locking him out of his room somehow. He slept in the hallway once, but got kicked out of there. He made it three days before Shiro found him passed out on one of the benches in front of the school building, clutching his homework. 

After that, there was a lot of angry shouting, waiting outside the principal’s office while Shiro reamed out someone inside. Keith tried to pay attention to what was happening, worried that he’d finally done it, that Shiro would really give up on his this time, but he was too tired. 

He woke to Shiro tapping him gently on the shoulder, his smiling face leaning over Keith’s. The smile was pinched, but it was there, “Come on Keith, we’re going home.”

“What?” Keith struggled to sit up straight in the seat, sure he’d heard Shiro wrong.

“You’re going to come live with me, alright? Officially you’re still on the books as living here, there’s nothing I can do about that, but if you haven’t been living in your dorm the past few days anyway, there’s nothing they can do to stop you from living with me.” He said this almost out of breath, like the last hour and a half he’d been in the principal’s office he’d been arguing this exact point. 

Keith was now speechless because he’d never in a million years thought that something like this would happen, that Shiro would ever see him as anything other than just another wayward mentee who needed some serious psychological help. 

Shiro, catching this expression, immediately misinterpreted it, “Oh. Oh god I didn’t even ask you. Do you want to come live with me? You don’t have to, I just thought… obviously there’s more going on with James than you told me and I would have done this sooner if there’d been a loophole I could have exploited-”

Keith realized that he might never have really conveyed to Shiro how much the last year has meant to him. Maybe he’d always been a little gruff and rude and possible mean because he was afraid that… well afraid that Shiro wouldn’t come back. 

So he interrupted, “No, no I totally want to live with you.”

He didn’t think about the consequences. About the fact that maybe the G.A.L.R.A. wouldn’t be so keen on losing one of their test subjects. He didn’t care, because Shiro had said they were going  _ home.  _

He had enough suppressants stashed in his bag that he made it two and a half weeks. It was… probably the best two weeks of his life. Shiro made up the spare bedroom for him. He didn’t have his own T.V. like James used to brag about but Shiro let him use the DVR. They ordered pizza every Friday just like they used to when he was visiting from the home. He got to hang out with Allura more often after class and she helped him with his bio homework. 

But then he ran out of suppressants.

After the first day that nothing went wrong, he thought it might be okay. Maybe he didn’t need the power suppressants anymore. The second day he felt… a little under the weather, but it wasn’t anything serious. Maybe just a cold. He went to class and didn’t miss a single subject because he’d already missed four days this semester when he was suspended and he couldn’t afford to miss any more. 

He was hot and itchy all day but he ignored it. It was fine. Everything would be fine. 

Shiro called him in sick the next morning when he found Keith curled up on the bathroom floor. He wanted to go, needed to go but when he tried to stand everything got woozy and out of focus and then he didn’t remember anything. 

When he came to a few minutes later, Shiro was on the phone with 911 dispatch. He tried to tell him, to warn him that the hospital was a bad idea, but his mouth was so dry that all he could manage was an alarming croaking sound. 

Shiro just smoothed his hair back and kept talking in that clipped short and to the point tone that he got when he was nervous or afraid, “Yeah, he was unconscious for a full six minutes, he’s waking up now. His fever’s… I don’t even know, he runs warmer than most people do so I’m not sure how bad it is. Yes, that’s the right address. Okay. Can I move him downstairs? Okay, thank you.”

He hung up, let out a shaky breath and then knelt next to where Keith was slumped against the tub, “Hey man, why didn’t you tell me you felt this bad? I would have brought you into the doctor last night or something.”

Keith shrugged, immediately regretting it when Shiro scrubbed at the stubble on his cheeks with both hands, looking worried and stressed and way older than nineteen. Then he said it. The thing that Keith was dreading, “Do you not trust me?”

“I trust you,” he rasped, telling the truth because he  _ did,  _ he just didn’t want Shiro to get hurt. He fought back a way of nausea, and said, “Just didn’t think it was bad.”

Shiro didn’t believe him. He could tell. There wasn’t anything else for him to say. He could tell him what? That the G.A.L.R.A., an organization that only just started to become well known had control over his life from the age of four? Had control now? Either didn’t realize Keith was gone from his usual home or knew and was purposefully withholding his medications? 

No. He wasn’t going to involve Shiro in any of this. 

_ Even if it kills you?  _ A small part of his brain whispered. He ignored it. He wasn’t going to die, he didn’t need to take the suppressants and he was going to make it out of this and be the hero Shiro thought he could be. 

“Let’s get you downstairs,” Shiro murmured but Keith wouldn’t take his hand. He couldn’t go to the hospital. They’d find him there. They’d find him and realize he was at Shiro’s and they’d take him away again. 

He realized he’d been saying this out loud when Shiro’s expression turned alarmed, “Keith, what’re you talking about?”

He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. 

“If you’re talking about the foster system, or the school or both, I’m not going to let them take you,” Shiro’s expression was soft, understanding. It made it so much worse to know what might happen to him if he brought Keith to the hospital. 

So instead of explaining, he blurted, “I’m afraid of hospitals.”

“Understandable,” Shiro sighed, “Listen, buddy, I’m going to tell you something, okay? And it’s not for you to get worried about, it’s to help you, hopefully. Look, I’ve got this… disease. I was born with it, and I could have died when I was really little, but I didn’t. I wasn’t supposed to make it to be as old as I am, but I’m alive because hospitals kept me that way. As scary as they are, and as much as it feels like they’re just there to hurt you, they’re there to help.”

“You’re going to die?” Keith scrambled to his feet, “No, you-”

“Not anytime soon,” Shiro reassured him, one hand out to keep him steady, “Someday, sure. But I’ve got friends who are working on a cure right now, something that might help. So there’s no need to worry, right?”

“I guess.”

“And this is all possible, me being here, you being able to live with me, the hero work, all of it, because of a hospital. So please let me take you there?”

He wanted to say yes, to just let Shiro do what he needed, to make this man feel better because Keith never wanted to be a source of trouble for him but he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t. So he shook his head. 

Shiro sighed, but instead of yelling, instead of getting angry like Keith expected him to he just said, “I’ll cancel the ambulance.”

Shiro made him stay in bed that day. Things got progressively worse. By the time the sun was going down, he felt like his skin was blistering, like his insides were trying to burn their way outward. Everything was hazy. He doesn’t remember much about this time, much the same as the previous withdraw. Shiro told him that most of the time Keith was gone to the fever, not making a lot of sense except for when he panicked over Shiro leaving the room. 

He woke in the car. Shiro had the AC blasting as high as he could make it and he was talking in low, soothing tones. He blacked out again and then he was in the hospital, strapped to a bed. He blanked and then Shiro was leaning over him, gripping his hand tightly. 

“How’re you feeling?” Shiro murmured. 

He took inventory. Nothing was on fire. The deep ache in his bones was gone. He could breathe without pain, “Good.”

Shiro smiled and started to move away but then Keith remembered why he would be feeling okay, why he wouldn’t be dead yet, “What happened? What did you do Shiro?”

Shiro’s grin disappeared, “We can talk about that after you rest more.”

“No,” Keith insisted, “Tell me now.”

Shiro inhaled sharply and then glanced away, his fingers twining together as he sat down heavily. He frowned and then said, “The G.A.L.R.A. approached me.”

Keith knew this would happen, he  _ knew  _ this was a terrible idea-

“They told me what was wrong with you and gave me a choice. I could either give you to them or I could be given a monthly supply of the power suppressants you’re on and report your activity to them.”

Keith waited for Shiro to say that he was getting rid of Keith, that it had been fun but it was all over now-

“I decided I didn’t like either option,” Shiro growled, “So I got in contact with someone I know. Thankfully, we managed to locate a few extra of your pills at the school that I… acquired and he’s going to reverse engineer them for you. I gave you one of the ones I found and we should have a full batch ready for you by the end of the week.”

“You-” Keith’s voice broke, “You told the G.A.L.R.A. no?”

“I said I wasn’t going to let anyone take you away, didn’t I?” Shiro said, like that was it. Like that explained everything. 

Maybe it did. 

They spend the rest of that semester trying to find a balance, trying to get Keith on the lowest dose possible while averting withdraw. There were too many days where Keith went to school exhausted because there was an excess of the drug in his system or not enough, but he passed all his classes. Shiro began training him every day after school, his excitement over Keith’s increased ability with lower doses of suppressant almost hilarious. 

“Just watch Keith,” Shiro said after teaching him how to burn a concentrated point. Keith had gotten his fire hotter than ever before and Shiro was ecstatic, “We’re gonna do a team up someday. We’ll be that brother team everyone’s jealous of, yeah?”

“Brothers?” Keith heard himself repeat as if from a distance and Shiro’s lips tugged upward. He’d been stopping himself from calling Shiro family, telling himself that two years was not long enough to know someone even if you lived with them-

“Brothers.”

He got through one semester. He didn’t make friends. Shiro, at first, had ribbed him about it, but it was dangerous for people to get involved in his life. Dangerous because the G.A.L.R.A. were gaining traction and friends were just another weapon they could use against him. 

Maybe he was being paranoid, maybe not, but either way his power was dangerous. Shiro knew that too, despite all the discussion of being a hero. If he didn’t, he would let Keith talk about it in public, would let him go to the side kick seminars the school sometimes hosted. But he didn’t. He made Keith pretend to be human and that was the most telling thing of all. 

Second semester, he was paired up with a nice guy named Lance in Chemistry. They got along well. Too well. Keith couldn’t bring himself to pull away, to do what he had to. He was careful but he wasn’t removed. Not like he should have been. 

A kid in their grade was throwing a party and Lance invited him to it. It was an offhand remark, but the whole grade was supposedly going, so Keith thought  _ why not?  _ He didn’t tell Shiro where he was going, lying about a study group something or other and he might be out late. Shiro, absorbed in some paperwork Allura dropped off earlier, agreed.

Keith felt kind of bad about taking advantage of Shiro’s stress, but he was pretty sure there were going to be things at this party that Shiro wouldn’t want him to get into. Keith didn’t want to get into them either, but he did want to go. He was fourteen and had never been to a sleepover, a friends house, none of that. He was going to make the most of this party. 

He took the bus there. Most of the other kids had parents that dropped them off. He tried not to feel weird and out of place, but he did anyway. 

The party went great until it didn’t. He talked to people, more than he ever had before at the school. He had a little alcohol because why not. There was some good natured teasing about he and Lance when Lance greets him far too rambunctiously at the door, but Keith shut it down rather quickly. Being gay wasn’t something to make fun of people for. Shiro was gay. Anyone who knew Keith knew that things got violent when anyone so much as breathed Shiro’s name the wrong way and the subject was dropped. 

But then he had a little more to drink and he was feeling pretty out of it by the time Lance grabbed his hand, tugging him to a darker corner. 

“You're my lab partner right?” Lance yelled over the music, “Jesus I didn't know the party was gonna be like this. I lost the friend I came with and I don't know like anyone here.”

Keith just shrugged because what was he supposed to say? “I've only seen parties like this in movies?”

“You can't leave me,” Lance clutched at his arm. It was playful and Keith could tell even through his own tipsy filter that Lance was a little drunk. Maybe more than a little, “I won't know anyone, if you leave me.”

“Well I guess I won't leave then,”Keith told him. Lance beamed. 

They talked for a few hours. Or well. Lance talked. Keith just kind of listened, drifting in an out of focus. He thought, once, briefly, that maybe mixing alcohol with his power suppressants might not have been a good idea, but he didn’t have time to wonder too much because Lance dragged him around, introducing him to everyone. For someone who didn’t know anyone here, he sure knew a lot of people here. 

They ended up on the front porch. Lance was… well drunk would be a kind way to phrase it. He had his head resting on Keith’s shoulder and he was still talking but in a slurred kind of way that Keith didn’t want to make the effort to understand. Keith was acutely aware of the feel of Lance’s hair against his neck, or how Lance’s breath felt against his exposed collarbone and Lance’s hand wrapped around his waist to keep him steady. He didn’t know what it meant. They were barely friends, and yet this felt like… more than what friends would do. Maybe not. It wasn’t like he’d ever had a friend before. 

“Ya know, you have the prettiest eyes,” Lance said, in a very intent tone of voice that was so different from his rambling speech that it jerked Keith back to awareness, “Like… the sky. Not like day time sky, like night time sky, when the sun’s doing it’s thing and it’s just there ya know, in the morning. Right when it’s there.”

Keith didn’t know what to say. He’d had enough alcohol that Lance’s words

seemed almost poetic and he awkwardly patted Lance’s cheek, “Thanks dude.”

“You are… the  _ most  _ welcome,” Lance sat up a little, his words oddly intense, “Like. Shit man, you’re really cute. And I’m really drunk, like way drunk. But hey. Live your life ya know? Can I kiss you?”

“Mmmm,” Keith hummed, thinking about it. Or well, he tried to. Any serious consideration he might have had on the subject kept slipping away from him like those small silver fish in a creek. You try to catch them and they just dart away, glinting in afternoon rays, “I dunno.”

“Okay. Okay no you’re right,” Lance sounded so uncertain, so sad, “Yeah-”

Before he could think better of it, Keith turned toward Lance. Lance’s face was 

intent, brow furrowed, lips pursed, and Keith leaned forward, tilting his head slightly. Lance’s eyebrows raised in surprise but then Keith couldn’t see his expression anymore because his lips had made contact. 

Lance kind of took over from there, shifting his body into a better position. Keith’s hands came up almost of their own accord and he was holding Lance to him and had his fingers wrapped in Lance’s hair and Lance squeezed his waist. They pulled apart, breathless, a little shocked, but then Lance darted in again like a starving man toward food. 

Keith wasn’t really sure how long they were out there. Long enough for

Lance’s friend to find them, calling for him from around the front of the house. Lance lurched backward, his eyes wide as he smoothed down his hair. 

“That’s my friend,” he said. Keith nodded. “You’re great, really great. Man I wish I liked boys. Oof my mom’s gonna be so mad. I’m like. The drunkest I’ve ever been. Do you like boys?”

Keith, who stopped listening after the phrase “I wish I liked boys”, shrugged in response to the question. He didn’t know. By the way his heart stopped and he felt something like dread curling in his gut at how nonchalantly Lance was treating this whole thing, he had a strong suspicion he did. He liked boys, he liked Lance, and he hadn’t actually minded people thinking that they were together at the beginning of the party. Maybe that was why he’d stuck with Lance all night. Because he kind of liked the way everyone looked at them. Like they were a thing.  

But Lance didn’t like boys and Keith couldn’t have friends. This was dangerous

and terrible and he shouldn’t have done it. Lance probably wouldn’t even remember this in the morning and Keith really, really hoped he didn’t. 

Lance left, giving him a fist bump on his way to meet his friend. Hunk was the guy’s name. He gave them a weird look when he found Lance with a hickey on his neck and Keith’s hair ruffled like fingers had been playing in it but he didn’t say anything. Keith didn’t either. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what he was feeling. There were too many emotions swirling through him for him to name. 

After Lance disappeared around the corner like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t just been Keith’s first kiss, like he hadn’t just brought to Keith’s awareness the fact that he wasn’t straight, Keith called Shiro. 

“Shiro?” he said, once his brother picked up. He knew the word was sloppy,

but his face was kind of numb and he couldn’t make his tongue move like he wanted to. 

“Keith? How’s the study group?” Shiro asked, like he couldn’t hear the music pulsing in the background, couldn’t tell that Keith was obviously intoxicated. 

“Can you… can you come pick me up?” he said, hating the fact that there was a bit of a whine to the words, that he sniffled at the end of it, that he could feel tears pressing against the backs of his eyes. 

“Of course,” Shiro sounded so sympathetic, so understanding that it took all of Keith’s self control not to burst into tears. 

“Okay. Thanks. I’m at uh… I don’t know where I’m at. A girl named Rizavi’s house or something?”

“Keith you’re going to have to be more specific,” Shiro said, “Can you go inside and ask anyone where you are?”

“No,” Keith let out a shaky breath. He didn’t want to risk seeing Lance again. Couldn’t risk it. 

“Is it okay if I track your phone then?” Shiro asked, calmly. He didn’t sound mad at all, something Keith didn’t understand, “Do you know how to turn on the find my phone service?”

“Yeah.” It took him several tries, but he got it eventually. Shiro made him stay on the line, made him go stand by the edge of the road. Their house wasn’t too far from Rizavi’s, if that was the girl’s name, but Keith couldn’t quite remember how long the bus ride had been. 

It felt like forever before Shiro appeared, driving the beat up SUV that he bought with his own money as soon as he’d turned sixteen. It was the most impressive looking car Keith thought he had ever seen as he climbed into it then, sliding into the front seat without a sound. 

Shiro didn’t talk for the first few minutes he drove. He just let Keith sit there, staring blankly out the window. 

Until finally, “So obviously that wasn’t a study session.”

“No,” Keith sighed, “Was a party.”

More tentatively now, “What happened? Did someone hurt you?”

_ Yes,  _ “No.”

“Keith-”

“I kissed a boy,” Keith blurted, still not looking at Shiro, “I kissed a boy and then he told me he was straight.”

“Are you straight?” Shiro was careful to be casual, but Keith can sense his tension. 

“No,” Keith whispered, “I don’t know. I don’t think so?”

“Okay,” Shiro said. 

And then, “I love you. No matter what you decide. You know that, right? You’re my brother. Now and forever.”

“How did you know you were gay?” His cheeks were wet, but he wasn’t crying. He wasn’t. It was just… humid. 

“I…” Shiro exhaled, long and slow, “It took a long time. A lot of consideration. But it’s not the same for everyone. You’ll figure it out, someday.”

Keith didn’t respond. Not for a long time. They rode home in silence. The world still had that shaky, wobbling texture that meant he was definitely not sober. At the party, that had seemed fun, exciting, but now it had lost its novelty. 

After they pulled into the driveway, after Shiro held the door open for him and made him take off his shoes, after Shiro got him up the stairs and put a glass of water next to his bed, Keith grabbed Shiro’s wrist and, careful not to slur, said, “Thank you. For being my brother.”

Monday, when he went back to school, he asked to switch lab partners. When his teacher inquired as to why, he gave the only answer he could think of, the only answer that might wipe that stupid grin off Lance’s face as he waved at him from the back of the room. 

“He’s a terrible partner. I can’t work with someone that incredibly stupid. He’s going to bring my grade down and I swear to god if I have to listen to his dumbass chatter for another second I’m going to blow my own brains out.”

He watched Lance’s expression fall, watched him turn from bubbly and cheerful to crushed and hurt. He took it in stride, accepted the detention for swearing and refused to ever,  _ ever  _ think about Lance again. 

 

**Eleven Years Ago:**

He was fifteen the first time he met Adam. 

It… did not go well. 

He’d known about the guy for three months. Shiro of course, told him when they went on their first date. Described Adam, how they knew each other from grade school, how Adam had moved away. How Adam moved back. How they’d reconnected through Allura. 

Shiro was already busy with hero work, with helping Allura getting the laws changed. He was up all night some nights and some weekends he spent over at the Altea residence. It was fine, Keith could take care of himself and was more than capable of getting his homework done, putting in a frozen pizza and watching T.V. on his own. It was just a little frustrating though, that now all his free time was spent with this new dude. Adam. 

Finally, once they’d been dating for long enough that Shiro considered things to be serious enough to introduce Adam and Keith, Shiro booked a dinner for all three of them. Keith was essentially Shiro’s only family, unless you counted Allura, who already knew Adam. Keith hoped Adam was nervous. He wore his leather jacket and convinced Shiro to take the motorcycle and made sure Adam knew that there were no extra helmets. 

They ordered drinks. Adam got a Coke. Keith ordered water, then purposefully made a comment about how Shiro never allowed him to have soda because of how unhealthy it was. No pop in the Shirogane household!

Adam didn’t even bat an eye, “That’s great! I’ve been trying to stop drinking it for the past year but it’s so hard sometimes. Maybe you can give me some pointers Shiro.”

Keith narrowed his eyes, but let the comment slide. 

“So you’re fifteen? A sophomore?” Adam asked after taking a sip of his carbonated beverage.

“Yes.”

“How’s school going?”

“Fine.”

“Shiro tells me you’re planning on becoming a pilot? Are you looking at colleges?”

“No. I’m a sophomore,” Keith said, crossing his arms over his chest, “Why would I do that.”

“Well, Shiro brags about how smart you are all the time. I thought you might be trying to get ahead. I was looking at schools when I was your age,” Adam seemed to be trying to be nice, but Keith wasn’t buying it. Who did this guy think he was? He wasn’t good enough for Shiro. 

“That’s cool for you.”

Adam shook his head, “I’m a pilot, is what I’m saying. I could offer some pointers if you wanted.”

“I’m good,” Keith snapped. Piloting was his second choice anyway. If things went as he planned, he was going to be a hero. If they didn’t… well then he’d be a pilot. 

“Keith,” Shiro said softly, kicking him under the table in a obvious gesture of  _ be nice.  _

Keith didn’t want to be nice. He didn’t want to sit and have dinner with this guy because it meant that Shiro was serious about him. And if Shiro was serious about him, it meant that Shiro could see them eventually moving in together, getting married, having their own family. And where would Keith go then?

He wasn’t stupid. He’d seen it in foster homes, when older siblings said they’d always be there, when they said they’d never leave and then they got a boyfriend and it was like Keith wasn’t even alive anymore. 

Shiro was going to fall in love with Adam and then Keith would be a moot point. He could see it now. Shiro always talked about how he wanted kids someday. They’d move in together and Shiro would turn Keith’s room into a nursery and Keith would be back in the dorms. He’d have to live with James fucking Griffen or some other dweeb and he’d be back in the G.A.L.R.A.’s control. He’d never have pizza and ice cream while watching Star Wars with Shiro again, he’d never be allowed to go on bike races through the nature preserve, he’d never see Allura, never be able to climb on the roof and look at the stars-

He stood, abruptly, and stormed away from the table. He almost knocked over a waiter in his hurry to get outside, but the guy just barely managed to dodge him, cursing Keith under his breath. 

He wandered into the alley and hit the wall with his bare fist until he could think again. Until his hand hurt more than his heart. 

When he looked up, Adam was standing there, his hands in his pockets. He was watching Keith with an unreadable expression behind his glasses. 

“What do you want?” Keith spat, and Adam shrugged. 

“What do you want?”

Keith paused because honestly he hadn’t been expecting that. Hadn’t been ready for anyone to care about his opinion, “I want you to leave Shiro alone.”

“Not going to happen,” Adam drawled, stepping forward, “I’m not going anywhere kid.”

“Why not?” There’s an audible break in one of the words. He blamed it on puberty. 

“Because I like him,” Adam said without hesitation. He came to a stop leaning against the wall, “Because I maybe even love him.”

“You don’t know him,” Keith argued and Adam nodded.

“You’re right. I knew him when we were children, but he’s different now, obviously. For one, he’s got a little adopted brother with anger and abandonment issues. Wasn’t expecting that one.”

“I don’t have-”

“Yeah you do kid,” Adam stared down at him, his mouth twisted into a frown, “I’m trying to get to know Shiro. But I can’t do that unless you let me.”

“What?”

Adam sighed, but it wasn’t in frustration. More exasperation, maybe, “He values your opinion so much that if you told him to stop dating me, he probably would. But I’m out here to ask you not to do that. Because I’m not here to push you out, I’m not here to take Shiro from you. I’m not here to change things or ruin your life. I’m here because I want to be a part of Shiro’s life. I want to do that in a way that doesn’t change things too much for you, but in order to do that, I need you to work with me.” When Keith didn’t answer, Adam continued, “Hopefully, I’m going to be around a long time. So either you can leave me to fumble out here in the dark, or  you can let me know yourself when things are bothering you so that we can work on them. The first way means Shiro gets caught in the crossfire. The second way, not so much.”

Keith debated, wanting to say something like  _ what if I made Shiro dump you  _ but then he remembered the look in Shiro’s eyes, the way he talked about Adam, the late night phone conversations he overheard between them, the effort Shiro put into this dinner- “Fine. But if you hurt him-”

“Trust me, I’ve heard about your prowess with a knife,” Adam said with a smile, “You’ll murder me. Painfully. But I’m not going to hurt him. I care about him too much for that.”

“...sure,” Keith agreed eventually. 

“Can we go inside and order now that we’ve got our uneasy truce? I’m starving.”

“I still don’t like you.”

“Well, guess I’ll have to do my best to change that then.”

 

**Nine Years Ago:**

Adam did. Change Keith’s opinion, that was. 

Adam moved in approximately ten months after he and Shiro started dating. Adam was spending most nights anyway to avoid the paparazzi, and it somehow worked out better. Adam didn’t have much anyway, and the whole process went rather smoothly. 

Keith’s fears didn’t come true. Adam slept in Shiro’s room and Keith kept his and sometimes Adam even drove him to school. Adam was a much, much better cook than Shiro ever was, and they ate less frozen pizza and more parmesan chicken or kabobs or seasoned lamb with a specialty sauce Adam wouldn’t share but had apparently been passed down in his family for generations. 

Keith didn’t like saying it was the food that changed his mind… but it was

probably the food. That and Adam would watch Star Trek with him when Shiro was sick of it and he’d been probably the only reason he passed his molecular biology course. And Adam insisted Shiro and Keith take out their bikes at least once a week just them. And he bought Keith energy drinks when they went to the grocery store without Shiro. 

Alright, so there were a lot of reasons Keith liked Adam, but whatever. When Adam asked him a year and a half after he started dating Shiro if Keith would “flip out over me marrying your brother,” Keith had said no and that had been that. 

It was a whirlwind of preparations. The media, which had always been present in Shiro’s life, and then by default in Keith’s, was now an ever oppressing factor. Shiro tried to shield Keith from the worst of it, but he still appeared in the news every once in a while. He had to listen to Lance bitch about it the next day whenever there was anything remotely positive about Keith on T.V., but otherwise it didn’t bother him. 

What did bother him, was the fact that Shiro couldn’t be a hero anymore. Couldn’t do what he was best at, couldn’t save people without being arrested. Shiro told him not to worry, that they were working things out, but Keith knew the G.A.L.R.A. There was no coming back from this. 

He was almost seventeen when his brother married Adam. He was the best man, and Allura was the maid of honor. Allura cried. A lot. Keith, on the other hand, had to work hard to keep himself from sweating through his tux because he was so nervous. 

But he gave the speech. 

“As most of you know, I’m Shiro’s adopted brother,” he started, “And for some

stupid reason he decided to trust me with the job of best man.”

A few awkward chuckles. Allura’s encouraging smile.

“I’m not… very good at these types of things but uh, anyway. I met Shiro when I was thirteen, after I stole his car. It was definitely not a deliberate choice to break the law, but rather the hand of fate bringing us together. Or, that’s what I told the police officer, anyway.”

Light laughter. He warmed to the mic. 

“I met Adam under very different circumstances. In a fancy restaurant, surrounded by high class society. Essentially, somewhere neither Shiro or I belonged. And I was terrified that this totally suave, way too cool dude was going to ruin everything. And he  _ did  _ ruin everything _. _ ”

Quiet. 

“He ruined Saturday night Dr. Who marathons because he made Shiro laugh so hard that I couldn’t hear the end of the episodes. He ruined Sunday brunches because he wouldn’t let Shiro burn the toast anymore, because he made something edible and wouldn’t let us stoop to reheating Friday night’s pizza. He ruined Shiro driving me to school because he made me wait while he kissed Shiro goodbye.”

He made a face and Allura cracked up. There were other people laughing but it was mostly her he heard. Her and Shiro. 

“He ruined walks through the park because he held Shiro’s hand so that I couldn’t push him into the snow piles. That one was a real tragedy, especially since the year before I’d broken three of Shiro’s fingers doing that. He ruined going to amusement parks because the old roller coasters only have two seats and he made me sit in the front row with Shiro. He even ruined my carefully cultivated innocence with all of their PDA.”

Adam of course, chose that moment to kiss Shiro square on the mouth and there was racoucus cat calls from the crowd. 

“See what I mean? Jeez guys, this is a wedding,” Keith snorted, “Anyway, like I was saying, Adam ruined a lot of things by entering my life. One of the things he hasn’t ruined though… is Shiro’s life. So if I have to sacrifice Shiro’s terrible cooking in order for my brother to be happy… I guess that’s something I’m willing to do.”

Everyone cheered. 

Everyone except Adam, who was attempting, discreetly, to wipe the tears from his smiling cheeks. 

 

**Eight Years Ago:**

He still struggled with his power. Much, much less than before, a struggle that thankfully didn’t draw attention to him, but a struggle nonetheless. 

They were trying different suppressants all the time, messing with dosages and if different chemicals had different results. Mr. Holt, the man responsible for helping out with all of this mess, was doing his best, but Keith still fell asleep in class and still struggled to focus and sometimes he got so frustrated he blew up at anyone who bothered him. 

Adam didn’t take any of his excuses. As soon as they got Eliza in the house, little baby Eliza, Keith’s goddaughter, they had a long, long talk about it and everyone agreed there would be no more experimentation. They couldn’t risk Keith going through withdrawal or accidentally combusting when there was a baby in the house. 

The whole dynamic changed when Eliza entered the picture. It wasn’t in a bad way, necessarily. Just, Keith got even less sleep than before because Eliza cried all night and he had to help take care of her when Adam and Shiro were busy, which he didn’t mind. Allura helped too. Keith didn’t know how she’d done it, carried a kid that wasn’t hers around for nine months. 

He spent time with Eliza, with Allura and Adam and Shiro and threw himself into his schoolwork and he passed his junior year on the honor roll. It would all be worth it, Shiro told him. It would be worth not being able to tell anyone about his power, about keeping his distance from anyone who wasn’t family. 

He’d be a hero, someday. 

 

**Seven Years Before:**

He graduated, against all odds. Even had a college lined up to go to. He'd been a discipline issue, despite his excellent grades, and Iverson had argued against his being allowed to cross the stage. It had turned out not to matter whether Shiro fought the point or not because Keith had been too busy to go. 

Shiro, Adam and Allura were all at a protest for mutant rights when the G.A.L.R.A. controlled police force arrived. They arrested everyone there, meaning Keith’s three hour babysitting stint turned into three days while he called all the banks to figure out bail money and argued with lawyers about the merits of taking the case. They finally release Adam and Shiro. Keith transferred the money so that they could get their shitty car out of impound and then he waited for his brother to come home. 

It took them forever to do the paperwork. They were out of groceries, Eliza wouldn’t stop crying for her dads and Keith felt like he hadn’t slept in a year. Around 6 pm on the third day, he put Liz in the playpen in the living room and then set his head down on the table. Just for a second. 

He woke up to Shiro’s hand on his shoulder. On his forehead. 

“No fever,” he said to someone, his voice rough, “Keith, can you hear me?”

“Mmm,” Keith answered. It was dark in the kitchen. Or maybe his eyes were just closed. He couldn’t tell.

“I’ll start some dinner and take care of El if you wanna get him upstairs,” Adam offered. He sounded like he was far away, down a long tunnel, and Keith felt himself start to drift off again. 

“Yep,” Shiro agreed, and then he was being lifted out of the chair, “Upsidaisy. Jesus Keith, how much weight did you gain since we left? You’re fuckin heavy.”

“Language!” Adam yelled as they passed through the living room, up the stairs and then made it to Keith’s room. He was asleep again the second his head hit the pillow. 

When he got up the next morning, Shiro, Adam and Allura were waiting for him in the kitchen. Allura was holding a graduation cap, her eyes misty, “Hey Keith. We uh… we all wanted to apologize.”

“For what?” he asked, one eyebrow cocked. 

“For making you miss your graduation,” Adam said with a frown, “I didn’t realize what a risk going to that rally was going to be. We wouldn’t have gone if we did, and I’m sorry.”

He’d thought about it, once or twice, while he was getting things together for Adam and Shiro’s release, but it hadn’t seemed important. He didn’t much care that he hadn’t been able to go. No one at that school had liked him anyway. 

“We care,” Shiro chimed in after Keith expressed his feelings on the matter, “So put this on, we’re taking pictures, and then we’re all going out for brunch at the fanciest restaurant Adam knows.”

In reality, they went to the graveyard where Keith’s father was buried. Keith hadn’t been there in a few years, but now he told his dad everything- how he’d been worried he wouldn’t make it, how he had thought he was going to be everything his foster families said he would be. He wasn’t. He finished high school and he was going to college and he had a family, a family that took him out for lunch at his favorite restaurant instead of a fancy one, just like he knew they would.

That fall, he moved out of Shiro and Adam’s house. It was odd. He used to move around so much that being stable had felt like the strange thing. Now, after spending nearly six years in this house, it felt wrong to leave it. 

Shiro moved him into his dorm, hugged him goodbye, and said he’d be visiting on the weekend. Keith’s college wasn’t the best one, everyone knew by now that he was the brother of Takashi Shirogane, the great former hero, and no proper school wanted anything to do with him. It was good enough for him though. 

Classes were difficult, but not too difficult. He saw Shiro and Adam every two weeks and drove the three hours home the first month to hang out with Allura because she couldn’t make out to him. He missed baby Liza who was just over a year old, missed being able to take his motorcycle out whenever he wanted, missed Adam’s cooking, Shiro’s rumbling laughter, Allura’s white hair getting into everything. He missed them, but he was adjusting well. 

Until he saw her. 

Acxa. 

She was just… there. On his campus. Like it was perfectly normal for her to be there, to be alive and not in G.A.L.R.A. custody. Everything slowed, then stopped and he couldn’t breathe. 

She didn’t notice him, not til he walked up to her and practically startled her off the bench she was perched on. 

“Acxa?” he blurted and she blinked up at him. 

“Do I know you?” she asked, confusion in her face and voice. 

“It’s Keith your-” he swallowed the word brother. He didn’t know what he was to her anymore. He hadn’t seen her since he was eight. Since he… left her behind. 

“Keith?” she said, and then her eyes lit up and she covered her mouth with one hand. Her book fell to the ground, forgotten, “Oh my god. You look so different! How did you…”

She trailed off, glancing around them, “Not here. Come to my apartment later. We need to talk. I live in apartment 5A in the complex across the street from the dorms, the school sponsored buildings. Does two this afternoon work?”

He had class then, but he said, “Absolutely.”

“Good. I’ll see you then.” 

And then she was gone. Like she’d never been there in the first place. He still couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. How had she escaped? Or was she like him? He still wasn’t sure if he was free from the G.A.L.R.A’s clutches, but he, Shiro and Adam had been doing their best to stay off the radar the last few years. 

He had the hardest time staying still until two. He skipped his classes. Paced his dorm room. His roommate was hardly ever there, thankfully. It was to early in the semester for them to know each other well anyway, although Keith hadn’t really tried thus far. 

He walked to Acxa’s apartment. He kept his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, kept his head down, knocked on the door and tried not to throw up. 

She answered, ushering him outside with a quick look to see if he was the only one present. He didn’t know if she had a reason to be this paranoid, but he was afraid to ask. 

“Keith,” Acxa said, a whole world of emotion in that single word, “I thought you were dead.”

Her face was deathly white, her fingers pale as they gripped her upper arms, “I thought the G.A.L.R.A. killed you.”

“I thought they killed you too,” he said, surprised to find how much this still hurt, how much he had missed her. His sister, “I thought-”

He couldn’t finish his sentence, but that was okay because Acxa was hugging him, her thin arms wrapped around him. She was shorter than he was now, only by an inch or two. It was odd, but he held her until it felt natural, until some of the jagged edges he’d almost forgotten were there smoothed over. 

“You have to stay for dinner,” she said tearfully as she finally disentangled herself. She wiped a hand across her face and sniffed, offering a wobbly smile, “I’m by myself here, and I’m not a good cook, but we can order in?”

“Sure,” he heard himself saying and that was that. 

They exchanged stories. He told her about living with Shiro, about Adam. About what his life had been like since he left. He didn’t tell her about the bad parts, about the suppressants or the foster homes, but he told her about the rest. 

She explained that she’d been taken in by Zarkon’s son, Lotor. How she’d fallen in with him, done what he’d asked, and then he’d helped her escape. She was supposed to have met back up with him once she was free, but she’d gone her own way. She’d stolen the funds to keep herself alive, gotten a job at sixteen that didn’t require any kind of documentation. She’d learned how to forge all of the items she needed when she was seventeen, figured out how to get her GED and go to college. She’d had a rough few years, she said, but she was out of all that now. She was here to get her degree in linguistics and she was a junior. 

Before he knew it, he was spending the night. She had a pull out couch for him, a few blankets and he was content. 

She invited him to a party she was having that weekend, just her and a few friends. He hesitantly accepted. He was supposed to meet Shiro and Adam the next morning, but he cancelled with them, asking if they could switch weekends. Shiro easily agreed. 

He went to the party. There were more than a few people there, but Acxa knew them all. She introduced him to them in a whirlwind and he had a brief flash of memory, a reminder of a time when a boy from high school had done this same thing. 

He met everyone and then Acxa handed him off to one of her guy friends. A guy friend who was rather attractive, Keith couldn’t help but notice. He wondered if Acxa had done that on purpose. He’d told her, earlier in the week, that he’d come out as bisexual during his freshman year of high school. Acxa laughed and said she wasn’t really picky on gender either. Funny how things worked out sometimes. 

“Name’s Carter,” the guy said, pitching his voice to be heard over the dozens of other conversations and the music, “What’s yours?”

“Keith,” he answered. Carter had bright blue eyes and sandy blonde hair he wore in a ponytail. He had full lips and straight teeth and when he smiled, his cheeks dimpled. Keith rather liked it when he smiled. 

“Cool. Acxa told me to make sure you have a good time while she talks to her other guests. You want a beer or something?”

He agreed. Why not? One beer turned into two, which turned into four and then six and he and Carter are cracking up on the couch while Acxa wriggled her eyebrows at him from across the room. He flipped her off, but Carter seemed to take Acxa’s suggestive look to heart because he moved that much closer to Keith. 

By the time the party started to clear out a little bit, he and Carter had been more than a little handsy. They were no longer sitting vertically on the couch, but kind of diagonally, with Keith’s hands up the back of Carter’s shirt and Carter’s hands firmly wrapped around Keith’s ass. 

“You two can go upstairs you know. I’ve got more than one bedroom,” Acxa giggled from where she had someone perched half naked on her counter. Keith’s vision was blurry and unfocused, and he couldn’t tell who it was. He also didn’t much care because Carter pulled him upright and tugged him toward the stairs. 

They made it to the bedroom. Barely. Carter’s pants were off and he was fumbling with the button of Keith’s pants and Keith realized, suddenly, belatedly, that this would be the first time that he’d be doing something like this. 

Carter shrugged, kissed him and said, “Guess we’ll have to make it count then, huh?”

There were a lot of whispered instructions and awkward moments but they got through it and it was… good. It wasn’t what Keith thought it would be, but that was okay. He fell asleep in Acxa’s spare bedroom with one of Carter’s arms slung around his waist, the other man’s face nuzzled against his collarbone. It was nice and soft and the alcohol made everything warm and blurred. 

He woke feeling awful. Acxa made him a hangover cure, some eggs and they talked all morning. About Carter, about the party, about their lives, about college. By the time he left, he felt almost himself again. Better than himself. He had a guy, a guy he really liked, a guy who was coming to the next party Acxa was having that Wednesday night. 

He had class the next morning, but he could always skip it if he had to. It was odd, how close he felt to her, to his sister, despite the fact that he hadn’t seen her in years. 

Carter was at that party. The one after that too. They go on a normal date, to a bar Carter knew on the south side of campus. They didn’t drink, both of them being underage, but Carter rolled him a blunt in the back alley and they smoke together, making rings that drift toward the full moon far above their heads. 

One night he told Acxa about his meds. The power suppressants he had to take, every morning, without fail. She sympathized with him, told him to bring some over just in case he was spending the night so he didn’t take a dose late. He did. 

He kept going to class, but now more often than not he went to Acxa’s place afterward. He wasn’t real fond of his roommate, wasn’t real fond of his RA who gave him disapproving looks for smelling like weed or for kissing his boyfriend in the public space of the hallway. Her second bedroom became like a sanctuary for him, a place he could be himself and escape from everything. He and Carter smoked and talked about anything and everything and sometimes Acxa joined in. She had parties every weekend and he was invited now, to each of them. He knew most of her group by face if not name by the second month of college. 

He missed a weekend he was supposed to go home. Shiro called and he told him he was studying. Adam yelled for him to be good in the background and Keith agreed, ending the phone call as quickly as he could. Carter was pressing slow kisses to the hollow of his throat, his neck, along his shoulders, and it was making it really difficult to concentrate on the conversation. 

The next time he saw Adam and Shiro, he told them all about his new friends. Told them he met his sister again, that they’d reconnected after all these years. She made sure he was getting to his classes when he was supposed to, was tutoring him in physics. He told them about his new boyfriend and Adam laughed, asking when they were going to meet such a special guy. Shiro, of course, told him to be safe. 

It was great seeing them after such a long gap, but he was itching to leave the whole time. The rest of the gang was out sledding and he was missing what he assumed was a great time. 

Apparently, it had been. They told him all about it when they got back and he vowed he’d never be absent from another outing like that again. To make it up to them, he tried the first of Acxa’s pot brownies to see if they were edible. They were. They watched horror movies all night and he hit the point where he was too high to move. 

He liked it. Being adventurous like this. Doing things he wasn’t supposed to do. He’d tried his whole life to be good, to not let Shiro down, to have someone love him no matter what. Acxa was that person, he thought. She loved him as her little brother even if he got too drunk and slept on her entryway rug or the time he had sex in her bathroom. She’d just gotten revenge by using his shower for a threesome the next weekend when he wasn’t home. 

She loved him, even if he wasn’t being a model citizen, even if he failed a test or skipped class. She loved him even though he had to take power suppressants, even though he wasn’t powerful. She was family, blood related, and it was a relief to not have to try so hard anymore. 

She was the one who suggested mixing the power suppressants with alcohol. He’d had a lower tolerance at first, because of the stuff, and now Acxa offered him a way to continue that trend. She made a game out of it. He was already wasted, probably blackout by that point, and so he didn’t even flinch at her suggestion to open the capsules and snort the stuff. 

He did. 

It was… wonderful. He couldn’t feel his power at all. He was so far removed from it it was like he was human. He wasn’t a monster, wasn’t the G.A.L.R.A’s weapon, wasn’t the boy who was supposed to be a great hero but who had amounted to nothing. He was just Keith, Acxa’s brother and Carter’s boyfriend. 

He and Acxa both probably take way more of the stuff than they should and they end up in the living room in a heap. Carter had Keith’s clothes halfway off and Keith had him pressed into the couch. At some point Acxa gave him something and he took it because he trusted her. She wouldn’t hurt him. 

Everything blurred. Slowed down. Sped up. He remembers snapshots. Carter was riding him and then there was a woman, the same girl Acxa had been with moments before and she was pressed against him and he kissed back because that was what one did. At the time, it might have been the best night of his life. 

The night repeated. He was sick the next morning, so Acxa suggested more power suppressants and he took them. He didn’t care. He was failing his classes and he vaguely recalled being in some kind of argument with Shiro. He’d skipped another weekend and Shiro had bitched him out. Whatever. 

He spent the entirety of the week trashed out of his mind. Acxa’s house turned into a rave. Carter said something to him, the first night, something harsh and horrible, when he figured out what he and Acxa were taking, when he figured out Keith was a mutant, but Keith didn’t care. He didn’t need Carter. He had himself. 

And then he didn’t need Carter, because he had Helena. She had been Acxa’s “fuck buddy” as she called it, but she’d been the one to take over from Carter that night last week and she’d rather enjoyed herself. She practically lived at Acxa’s, same as he did, and they started sharing the spare bedroom. Helena was a fan of LSD and he took it with her sometimes, when he was tired of looking at his calculus homework. That was the only time they fucked. When he was in another place, when he didn’t have to be him. She never minded. 

He called Shiro and apologized the day before break started. Said he had been struggling with classes that were harder than he anticipated, that Carter had broken up with him and he wasn’t taking it well. 

The week and a half he was home for Christmas, he stocked up on his power suppressants. Shiro didn’t say a thing about it, because Keith’s power always became more unpredictable when he was emotional. That and his tolerance to the drug had gone up steadily over the last few years. Shiro probably just thought the dosage needed to be adjusted again. Keith didn’t even feel guilty. 

They were a family, over the holidays. A family, but Keith still felt bad about the lack of Acxa. About the fact that she had nowhere to go, no family to go home to. He texted her almost constantly and she sent him so many emoji’s he didn’t know how to deal with it. 

When he got back to school the next semester, he only attended classes for about two weeks before he gave up. He would rather spend his time with his sister and her friends than learn about philosophers who had been dead thousands of years. They made their own moral judgements about the world from the treehouse they built at the edge of Acxa’s apartment complex, a private place they could all talk and smoke in. 

Helena wasn’t around anymore, after the three weeks of break. He’d been with her for a month, maybe two, at the most. He didn’t mind much. It hurt less than Carter leaving had. 

The rest of the semester was… hazy. He stopped going to class, stopped taking calls from Shiro and Adam. Allura too. He didn’t need them. He didn’t need anyone, because he wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t ever going to be what they wanted, so why not just get rid of his power? Get rid of it completely, destroy what was left, and be as high as he could get away with all the time. He drank at parties, smoked the rest of the time, tried cocaine once with Acxa when he was bored and then tried it again. 

And again. 

He cycled through a few different partners. Alex, Bea, Titus. He woke too often in the same bed as Acxa after she couldn’t get him to his own. They would do a line together when they got up in the morning. Power suppressants only, the cocaine was saved for “special occasions” as Acxa put it. 

He was both in control and out of control with his suppressants. Acxa said they reminded her of taking tranqs mixed with an upper, something that mellowed you out but didn’t make you tired. But it was only if you took enough. Only if you managed to take so much that you overloaded your brain and everything was fine again. 

He hadn’t come home for spring break. Shiro definitely knew something was up at that point, but he didn’t do anything. Keith knew it was probably because he was trying to let Keith be an adult, his own person, but the voice in the back of his head that had gotten louder and louder over the past year said it was because Shiro didn’t care. 

Well, two could play at that game. 

**Six Years Ago:**

Everything changed at approximately 9:45 am on August 16th. His phone rang. He almost didn’t answer, so hungover he could barely keep his eyes open. Or maybe he was still drunk. Didn’t matter. 

“Hello?” he croaked. The girl next to him stirred. He’d been with her for over two weeks now and he could barely touch her. She’d bitched him out for an hour last night before he’d gotten wasted enough to actually have sex with her, “Who is this?”

“It’s Helena,” a woman breathed. Keith had to wrack his brain for a moment, too tired to deal with this. 

“Okay,” he said, once he remembered who she was. He disentangled himself from Synthia- at least he thought that was her name- and sat up, scrubbing at the three days worth of stubble on his chin, “What’s up.”

“I just… Oh god they’re going to kill me for this, they might anyway but I thought you should know that three months ago I had a baby girl.”

Why she was telling him this, he had no idea, “Congrats.”

“No Keith, you don’t understand,” she said, her voice hushed and hurried, “She’s yours. Your baby. I called Acxa and told her when I couldn’t get ahold of you. I thought she would have-”

Helena broke off with a frustrated huff, “It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, she’s your baby. The G.A.L.R.A. took me a day or two after I found out, they kept me there and I… oh god, they let me go a couple days ago, but they’re keeping her there. They’re going to kill me because I know about her, I know about you, what they did to you and they’re going to murder me-”

She was hysterical, hiccuping on the other end of the phone line. Keith’s couldn’t form words for a long, long moment after she cut herself off, “You… you know for sure that this baby is… mine?”

“Yes!” Helena burst out, anger in her voice, “You were the only one I was fucking before I found out! God damn it Keith, they’re going to  _ kill me,  _ they’re experimenting on my daughter and I’m the only witness, the only one who knows she’s in the facility on the southern side of town, you have to-”

The line went dead. 

Keith kind of felt like he’d died along with it. 

He was numb. So numb that the thought, the knowledge that Helena was definitely dead, had little to no impact. There was nothing he could do about it now. 

Synthia stirred next to him. She sat up, stretching to wrap one leg around his waist, “Mmmm, morning beautiful.”

“Get out,” he said, shocked at how clear his voice sounded, “Get your shit and get out.”

“What?” she asked, shocked. She pulled away from him, one of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows arching, “You can’t be for real right now.”

“I am,” Keith stood, shoving her leg off his lap, “I’m so fucking serious. Get the hell out.”

“Keith-”

“Now!” he roared and she squeaked, grabbing her shirt and slipping it over her head as she scurried from the room. That couldn’t have been the only thing she’d had here, but Keith couldn’t find it within himself to care. 

He showered, got dressed, and went to find Acxa. She was waiting for him. 

“You scared the shit out of Synthia,” she said nonchalantly, pushing a plate of toast in his direction, “That wasn’t very nice.”

“You know what else isn’t nice?” he asked and she gave him a quizzical look, “Keeping from someone the fact that they’re apparently a father.”

Her expression collapsed. The happy-go-lucky, broken-but-coping-even-if-it-wasn’t-necessarily-in-a-healthy-way Acxa was gone, replaced by something sharp, something deadly and shattered like splinters of glass. 

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“You did,” Keith said, snagging the toast. He took a bite, feeling as if none of this was real, as if this was the first time he’d actually been high in months, like this was a bad LSD trip, “You chose not to tell me.”

“No, I didn’t have a choice,” she was pleading with him. Why, he couldn’t figure out. 

“Acxa-”

“If I’d told you, you would have tried to find Helena and they would have killed you. You would have died, Helena too.”

“Bullshit.”

“The G.A.L.R.A. want your kid. They want to see if any of the effects of what they did to us will transmit to the next generation. I’m sorry Keith but you’re never going to see her. She’s not your child. She’ll never be yours, and I’m sorry.”

She sounded genuine. So entirely serious that Keith couldn’t take it. 

“That’s such fucking-” he searched for a word that would convey what he meant. He couldn’t find one, “That’s not right Acxa! They’re going to treat her like they did us, they’re going to torture her and-”

Acxa’s expression remained like stone, “They probably will. But there’s nothing either of us can do about it.”

“We can get her,” Keith said, setting his half eaten bread back on the plate, “We can rescue her.”

“No.” Acxa grabbed his arm, stopping him in his motion toward the front door, “We can’t.”

“Listen, I’ll call my brother. He was a pro hero who has been in negotiations with these people for forever. He can help us-”

“Takashi Shirogane isn’t your brother,” Acxa said. Her words were harsh, but her facial expression didn’t change, “And you’re not going anywhere or calling anyone.”

“What do you me…” he let his words trail off as he searched her eyes, her facial expression and it all came together. Acxa knowing about the baby and the G.A.L.R.A. immediately finding out. Axca had been the one who strongly encouraged he try some female partners, “explore his sexuality” she’d said. It had seemed like good advice at the time. And now, when he was trying to save her niece, his daughter, she was looking at him like she would do anything she had to prevent him from leaving the apartment, “You’re working with the G.A.L.R.A. You… did you set this all up?”

She smiled, a cold, terrible smile, and that was confirmation enough. He was seeing her, the real Acxa, in that moment. The twenty one year old woman who had never actually escaped from the G.A.L.R.A and maybe didn’t want to. Keith was… eternally sad, in that moment. This wasn’t his sister. This wasn’t the girl that had braided his hair and volunteered for experiments so that they wouldn’t take Keith for the third time that morning. He latched onto that, the one thing he could process out of everything that had happened this morning. 

“What did they do to you?” he asked softly and she scoffed. 

“This isn’t time for a heart to heart. Are you going to let your daughter go, or are you going to make me hurt you?”

He was going to fight. There was no question about it. But he didn’t have his power, not since he’d been taking so much of the suppressants and-

The knife plunged between his ribs, just below his heart. There wasn’t pain, not at first, just a horrible, horrible pressure and a white hot fire that spread from his chest to his arm. He made a sound, a sort of choking noise and then stumbled back, clutching at the hilt of the blade Acxa had just stabbed into him. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I really am. I hope this doesn’t kill you, I hope you live and I hope you get your daughter back somehow, but I have to make it look like I tried to stop you. If you make it out of this… I hope you forgive me someday.”

Pain stole the air from his lungs. He wheezed as she put on her sandals and left him there, on the kitchen floor. He didn’t recall falling, but he certainly wasn’t on his feet anymore. The knife was still in his chest, stuck there, hilt deep. The pool of crimson widened slowly as blood leaked down the front of his shirt and to the floor. A lake of mistakes. 

His phone was still in his pocket. He reached for it, gasping for breath, for the energy to make his fingers move. He didn’t think she hit his heart but she definitely hit something vital and he could taste blood on his tongue, in his throat, on his teeth. When he typed Shiro’s speed dial number, he coughed and red splattered his hands, his phone screen. 

Thankfully, someone answered. They answered, even though Keith hadn’t called in weeks, even though Shiro was still pissed at him for something Keith couldn’t even remember. 

“Keith?” It was Adam, “I’m answering for your brother because he’s being a child and is refusing to speak to you. I hope this is-”

“Adam,” Keith rasped, thankful he can make his mouth form the word, “Help. Me.”

“Keith?” Adam’s voice was urgent, worried, “What happened?”

“Stabbed,” he whispered. His breath was still coming in wheezing gasps and it was getting harder and harder to draw in air. God it hurt more than he could believe, than he’d ever thought was possible, “Mmmm fffuck.”

“Where are you? Where were you stabbed?”

“Apartment. Acxa.”

“Acxa’s apartment? The one off campus? Keith, you need to call 911.”

“Can’t,” Keith wheezed. Oh god, there was so much pressure on his chest, a pressure that couldn’t be healthy, “G.A.L.R.A.”

“Shit, shit, okay, Shiro who do we know in the area? Hey Keith, little dude, stay where you are. We’re going to get someone over to you who can help out, I promise. I promise you’re going to be fine. Keep talking to me?”

“Ok,” he tried. He really did. But he was tired and his chest ached and there was a sensation like tin foil being crumpled again and again behind his ribs, but agonizingly, as if he had nerve endings connected to it. His breath made a funny sound when he exhaled and he couldn’t get enough air, couldn’t make his chest rise and he thought, from somewhere distant, far away, that maybe his lung had just collapsed. 

“Keith? Fuck, Shiro you hear that? I think something’s wrong with at least one of his lungs, get Coran over there  _ now-” _

He got maybe three more breaths in before black spots started to dance before his eyes, before he gave in, gave up and surrendered to the darkness. 


	23. Keith: Live Bright, Die Young

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy!  
> Some parts of this chapter may be hard to read, proceed with caution. As always, please let me know if you notice inconsistencies etc thank you to everyone who has been doing so!

**Six Years Before:**

According to Shiro, Coran found him on the tile floor in a puddle of his own blood. Coran, who has the extraordinary ability to heal others, worked his magic and got Keith stabilized. Keith only remembers the part where he woke up on Acxa’s floor, glad he was alive. 

“Oh god,” he groaned, when he came back to awareness, “What the fuck.”

“I could say the same thing,” A cheerful voice chimed, “What happened here?”

“Got stabbed,” Keith grunted. Wasn’t it obvious? His chest felt… better now. Not whole, but not like he was dying anymore either. He glanced down at the wound, at what he could see of it through his shirt and was surprised to find that it was closed, partially knitted together as if it had been healing for a few days. 

“Yes, I see that,” the man said. Keith recognized that voice, knew the owner of it. 

“Coran?” 

“Yes,” Coran tapped him on the head lightly, “You’ve done a number on yourself there. Your brother and his husband are worried sick.”

But Keith didn’t have time to think about that. He needed to get to the G.A.L.R.A. facility on the south side of the city. Immediately. 

“Can you drive me somewhere?”

Coran must have thought he meant home because the man agreed and was then both shocked and outraged when Keith bullied him to driving in the other direction, “You’re not totally healed! You’re exhausted! You need to rest!”

“I will knock you out and steal your car if I have to,” Keith growled through gritted teeth. Every bump they hit sent a burst of pain spiraling through his rib cage, his lungs. He had to get through it. He had to save this little girl before the G.A.L.R.A. did anything permanent. Hopefully, even if Acxa believed he was alive and still coming, she wouldn’t think it would be in the same day he’d nearly died. He had the element of surprise and he had to take advantage of that. 

His still didn’t have his power, but he’d figure it out. 

“You know, I had no idea you were this ungrateful,” Coran grumbled, his eyes on the road, “I left the work I was doing here for Alfor and drove over with no hesitation to assist-”

“Yes, thank you,” Keith snapped, one hand clasped over the bandages he’d hastily slapped on, “Can you drive faster? Please?”

It was noon when he got there. He had no idea how he was going to get in, steal a baby, and get back out again, but he  _ was  _ going to do it. He asked Coran to wait, and when the man hesitated, told him to fuck off back home in the rudest voice he could manage. 

Coran, with an angry snort, had driven off. Probably better that way. Avoided further casualties. 

Keith wandered up to the entrance, searching for any clue as to how he could sneak in, something that could lead him to where the G.A.L.R.A. kept infant children. In a moment of desperation, he pressed his hand to the sensor and was surprised when the door slid soundlessly open, revealing a long dark hallway. 

He stepped back, not trusting this, not trusting that it could be this easy. But it was. There was no one in the hall. No one even in the facility as far as he could tell. It was Saturday, he thought, but did megalomaniac scientists with a vendetta against an entire faction of people take days off?

Taking his chances, he stumbled inside, wandering in the emptiness until he found it, eventually. A long hallway of rooms with glass walls and slots for food to enter through. It hit him like a sack of rocks, knocking him almost to his knees. 

_ He was being dragged from the room. They strapped him to a chair, stuck a needle in his arm and it burned, burned like the fire that was his mutation- _

He surfaced with a heaving breath that made his side ache worse than before. The black dots were back, but he chased them away, forcing himself down the hall. He’d never had this before, had this panic pressing down on him, but it felt exactly like he was a prisoner, back in the clutches of the G.A.L.R.A. Maybe… maybe he was. 

There was a plaintive cry and he froze. A whimper and then a wail that was clearly a newborn echoed toward him. He raced forward. 

In one of the glass boxes toward the end, there was a small incubator set up. And in it, with nothing but a bit of plastic surrounding her wrist, was his daughter. He knew it was her as soon as he saw her, saw the same black hair both he and Acxa had, the same slightly pointed ears. 

The chart on the door read, “KGen03, Subject 01”. He ripped down the sign, and rested his hand on the door, his nose smudging the glass as he pressed against it, trying to see her. She was so small, so fragile. He nearly fell when the barrier was finally out of his path, but he caught himself, stepped inside and unlocked the incubator with a hiss of air. And then he picked up his daughter. 

He was nineteen, a college dropout, a borderline-if-not-already drug addict, and totally, totally unfit to be a father. 

She stared up at him with big blue eyes, the same color as his, as his mother’s. His dad always told him he had his mom’s eyes, her smile. He saw those now in this baby, in this child. He’d never have a mother. She wouldn’t either. 

He was not fit to be this little girl’s sole provider, her only biological relative other than a certifiable aunt. If she lived long enough to reach adulthood, she was going to have more problems than he did, and that was saying something.  

He took her anyway. 

He cradled her against his chest and tried not to jar her too much as he sprinted for the exit. She giggled when he shifted her and his too long hair swung within her reach. She pulled it, trying to fit the strand into her mouth and he jerked back. 

“Ow!” he exclaimed, prying her fingers open, “Jesus, you’re a troublemaker, aren’t you?”

The baby squealed and patted his cheek. She wasn’t afraid of him in the slightest, wasn’t afraid of the fact that he’d just stolen her from what was probably the only home she’d known in her short life. 

He felt… warm, “I gotta name you something. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do with babies?”

The kid gurgled and played with the fraying collar of his shirt as he moved through the facility. 

“You’re so small,” he said. She just blinked up at him, “Can I call you Little for right now?”

She didn’t seem to mind much either way. 

They made it almost outside of the facility before someone spotted them. He wasn’t sure how he managed to make it that far anyway, how he’d even been in the system in the first place. He got his answer when he saw her standing in front of the exit. 

“Acxa,” he said, his voice strained, “Let me go.”

“I-” she wavered, and then there was a flitting of real pain in her eyes, “I hoped… I hoped you’d save her.”

“I am. I’m going to-”

His words cut off as a gun fired and red spilled down the front of Acxa’s t-shirt. She stared down at the wound, at the hole in her abdomen and then her eyes went vacant. She collapsed like each limb was nothing but kindling to be thrown in a haphazard pile. 

The baby in his arms screamed, her little face red and angry. Keith felt about how she looked. 

Lotor stood behind her, his head tilted as he examined Axca’s body. In a smooth motion, without looking, he shot Keith. 

For the second time that day, Keith went down with a noise of surprise. There was no spray of blood, but his leg screamed, folding under him with no preamble. He tumbled to the ground, partially covered from Lotor’s view by a stack of crates. 

He had a sudden idea. An idea he hated, but knew he had little choice. He stuffed a corner of his jacket into the baby’s mouth, muffling her furious cries. He covered her mouth and nose with his hand, biting his lip as she struggled against him. She was quiet, finally, and he removed his hand and the cloth, careful to check that she was breathing, that he hadn’t hurt her. Well, hurt her more. 

He smeared blood from his leg across her head, making it look as gory as possible. The entire time, he groaned, moving his feet in exaggerated pain. It wasn’t too hard to feign agony. He wasn’t sure why Lotor hadn’t come to check on him yet, but Keith was thankful for the reprieve. 

Lotor finally strolled over to his location, staring down at him in distaste, “Would you shut up?”

“I can’t!” he cried, showing Lotor the still body of the baby. He could see she was breathing, but he hoped Lotor couldn’t, “You killed her, she’s dead and you  _ shot me.” _

Lotor glanced down at the infant, then back at Keith, “You crushed her when you fell? Pity. Two seconds with your daughter and you manage to murder her.”

Keith let it roll over him, let himself absorb the blow because he needed anger. He needed to be absolutely furious, to lose himself in a blind rage. 

The G.A.L.R.A. had taught him how to be a weapon, and now he was going to be one. 

He slid the baby away from him, toward Lotor, who recoiled, and then Keith burst into flame. 

It wasn’t his usual fire, his usual casual blaze. Keith, the man he’d become, the boy he’d been, wasn’t there. He watched, from a distance, removed, but he wasn’t in control. He remembered this, vaguely, from a time long ago before he’d been free, before he knew that his power was anything other than a curse. 

Whatever was in control, whatever Keith became, that was what leapt over the unconscious baby and tackled Lotor to the ground. That was what melted the gun in his grip, set his clothing ablaze and threatened to torch the entire building. 

That was what would have left without the baby if Keith hadn’t wrested back the controls, fighting with himself. He had to get her. He was here for her. 

He backtracked, picked up the still too quiet baby and hobbled toward the exit. His thigh was dripping blood across the floor, his chest too was open and a thin line of crimson seeped from it. The baby was still breathing. He shifted the jacket, holding her at different angles, praying she’d wake up. 

Lotor wasn’t screaming behind him, which meant he hadn’t gone up in flames like Keith intended, but it didn’t matter. He had his kid, this baby he’d learned about like four hours ago, and already been stabbed and shot over. He had her, and now he had to get home. 

When he stepped out into the sunlight, he was astonished to see that Coran was there waiting for him, waving his arms out the driver’s side window. Keith dragged his left leg behind him, hopping more than walking the distance to Coran’s car. 

“Holy mother of-” Coran said. Before Coran could offer to heal him, before there could be any assistance given, Keith held out the infant, “Fix her.”

“What?” Coran shook his head, but Keith practically shoved the baby into his lap. 

“Fix her!” 

Coran did. She howled when she woke, but it might have been the sweetest sound Keith thought he had ever heard. 

Coran drove them the three hours it took to get back to Shiro and Adam’s. Coran called them, once, to let them know that Keith was on the way, but that was all he said. He threw a few more bandages at Keith and managed to stop the bleeding, but that was all he could do before Keith was on the brink of unconsciousness once again. 

He dozed lightly. The infant in his lap squirmed and gurgled and he gave her his finger to hold onto. She seemed to like it, keeping it tight in her grip for nearly the entire drive. 

They made it home. He was covered in blood and had a baby in his arms and really didn’t want to explain to his brother about either of those things, but he got out of the car anyway. 

“I’d really like to talk to my brother just me,” Keith said, and Coran nodded, his expression pinched and worried, “Thank you for everything. Truly.”

“You’re welcome Keith,” Coran frowned, “Please be careful. Call me if those wounds need to be checked up on in the next few days.”

“Will do,” Keith assured him. He was pretty sure he was going to be spending the next few days in some kind of withdrawal, but didn’t bother saying that. Pain pulsed through his body from his left side, despite the fact that both wounds now looked at least a few days old. It wasn’t even four o’clock, but Coran’s healing left him bone tired. Weary, even. 

He shuffled to the front door. He used his head to knock. It wasn’t efficient and hurt and was dumb but he was exhausted and it got Adam to answer the door. 

“Oh my god,” he said. 

“Hi,” Keith said. He went for an awkward smile but probably only achieved a grimace. 

“Oh my god.” Adam repeated, all the blood draining from his face, “Holy shit, Keith are you okay? Is that a baby? Shiro, your brother has a baby!”

He handed her to Adam, who accepted with no reservations. It helped make the decision a little easier. 

“Her name is Charlotte,” Keith managed to get out, “She’s  _ your  _ baby.”

And then he face planted on to the welcome mat. 

 

**Five Years Before:**

He was right. 

Within six hours of arriving on Shiro and Adam’s doorstep, he had been in the worst withdrawal he had ever gone through. They’d struggled to find a balance with Keith’s power suppressants that didn’t send him back into a fever and shakes, but also didn’t spark the need he once had for it, the desire to feel absolutely nothing. 

It took nearly six months before they got something everyone could live with. It was like walking a knife’s edge. If he went off one side, it was the withdrawal symptoms, and if he went off the other, he was someone he didn’t want to be anymore. 

His power was more unpredictable and uncontrollable than it had ever been. Whatever happened to him in the G.A.L.R.A. facility, whatever he’d done to overcome the pain and the fear was more permanent than he realized. He went into that state twice during the first six months. Adam was worried, concerned that he was a danger to Eliza and Charlotte. He  _ was  _ a danger. 

He stayed in his room most days. Half the time the medication left him with no energy, and the other half he just had no energy anyway. Shiro said he was depressed. That he was grieving. That he was processing trauma. He sounded like he’d been reading too many of those self help books and Keith didn’t really want to hear it. He didn’t care what it was. His injuries took long enough to heal that he had a valid excuse to stay in one spot and that was really all he needed. To just be… still. 

Allura came over to help with Charlotte often. She’d just accepted that there was a newborn in the house when Shiro had called, had welcomed Charlotte into the family just like Shiro did. 

Adam was the real problem. 

“We will take care of her,” Adam told him, leaning in the doorway, “And I’m

sure Shiro will treat her like his own daughter, just like he does Eliza. I don’t plan to.”

Keith glared at him from where he perched on his bed, struggling to stay

awake, “That’s a pretty dick move Adam.”

“She’s your daughter,” Adam said, his voice soft. There was no anger there, just

sadness, “I know you’re going through a lot right now, trying to recover from all this but… you’re going to want her back someday. You have it in you to be a great dad, and once you figure out your life and get back on track, you can be someone she wants to call her father.”

“I’m not,” Keith growled, his face pressed into his pillow, “her dad. Leave me alone Adam.”

“Sure, Keith.”

 

**Four Years Before:**

Adam was the one who came up with the dart gun. 

He was the one who got tired of it first, of Keith losing his temper and going up in flame. It wasn’t on purpose, everyone knew it wasn’t, but Adam decided enough was enough. 

He combined it with a low dose of tranquilizer, something Keith had never used during his awful year of college. It made him nauseous and tired for an hour after, but it worked. It kept the kids and everyone else around him safe and that was really all that mattered. 

That, and getting back at the G.A.L.R.A. 

Shiro was forming a team, a resistance group, with Allura. He wanted to be in it so badly that two of their arguments had resulted in Adam needing to storm off and return with the prototype dart gun he’d created with Matt’s help. He met Matt for the first time that year and surprisingly got along relatively well with him. 

It was all the more motivation to join. He was twenty one, the same age Allura had been when she’d had Eliza. He was old enough to join. 

But Shiro sat him down and explained that he was still too young. It had only been two years since he lost his sister. 

“Two years is a long time, Shiro,” he said, trying not to give in to the urge to blank out, to let himself uncage the power that always lurked under the surface, the power that now knew it could break free of this lower level of supressant at any time, “I’m better at controlling myself. I can fight.”

“I know you can. But we need you here, with Eliza and Charlotte,” Shiro sighed, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hands, “If anything happens to us-”

“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” Keith cut him off sharply, “Look, I’m an adult. Let me fight.”

“If you’re so grown, you can take care of your daughter like a responsible adult,” Adam interjected as he entered the kitchen, “She needs you Keith. We don’t.”

“She’s not my daughter!” Keith rocketed to a standing position, his fists clenched, “It’s been two years and you’re bringing this up again? You legally adopted her, she’s yours-”

“She is ours,” Adam interrupted, “She is my daughter, just as Eliza is. But she’s only my daughter for as long as you allow that, and we both know it’s true. She’s my daughter while I’m alive and while Shiro’s alive but she has your DNA. She came from you, and because of that she means something more to you. Stay here, and take care of her because in a few years, Shiro or I or Allura might be gone and you’re going to regret not having been there for her when she was younger.”

It wasn’t that argument that convinced him. It was Charlotte herself, peering out at him from the office they’d converted into Keith’s bedroom. The girls slept upstairs in Keith’s old room, but while the adults were downstairs, they used Keith’s room as a playroom if they wanted. 

She looked at him, with wide, frightened eyes, and he knew he couldn’t be like his mother. He couldn’t leave his daughter, even if she was legally Shiro and Adam’s. Someday, she might discover the truth and Keith wanted to be there to answer any questions she had.

“Fine.”

 

**Three Years Ago:**

They lost the house. The house that had been Shiro’s parents, that had been the only place Keith had ever been able to call home. 

They were moved into a mutant facility. It was far from Keith’s dad’s grave, far from the little planter he’d put next to it with Acxa’s name on it. So far that he couldn’t water it anymore, couldn’t take care of it and the next time he was able to take his motorcycle out in that neighborhood, the plant was dead. 

He got a new one, but it just made his anger for the G.A.L.R.A. burn that much hotter. 

They were not in this new house for too long- they shared with Allura and her family, all of whom were rarely ever there. He babysat as often as they needed him, but he had his own apartment, his own life. He got a job as a mechanic, fixed bikes and built his own. One of his coworkers set him up with a guy his cousin knew and they started dating. Keith hadn’t meant for it to happen, but Wes was a good guy. 

He was  _ officially  _ gay now- had told Shiro months ago, had come to the realization on his own. He’d never been all that into the relationships he’d been in with women in college and now he knew for sure what he wanted. 

Things were calm. Sort of normal. Boring, but in a good way. 

Charlie was finally adjusting to the new house and didn’t cry as much when he left anymore. She hadn’t taken it well when he’d moved out of his brother’s house, but Keith had ignored Adam’s pointed looks and done it anyway. 

Adam and Shiro were having a date night- Allura was watching the girls but had asked if he could come over and provide an assist while she repainted the girl’s room. Five year old Eliza wanted everything to be blue and mermaids, but three year old Charlie wanted pink and fairies and Allura was going to do her best to accommodate both. 

But when he sped up to the gate on his bike, they wouldn’t let him through. 

“Look kid, you don’t want to go in there today. There’s something big going down, alright? Just trust me, us normies are not going to want to get involved in whatever the mutants have planned. I heard that the G.A.L.R.A. was making a move toward the peaceful arrest of some of the resistance leaders, but that the mutant group plans to retaliate. Should be an interesting night.”

“What resistance leaders?” Keith asked, trying to sound as if he didn’t really care that he couldn’t go in one way or another. 

“Ah, see now, if I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise sting, now would it,” the man said, tapping his temple, “Go home man, you’ll be safer there.”

The guy had just finished speaking when there was a  _ boom  _ and a cloud of smoke erupted toward the night sky. The guard turned, his mouth open in a wide ‘o’ of surprise and Keith immediately hopped off his bike, leaning it against the front gate. 

He was halfway towards jumping over the barrier, intending to race toward the flames and see if he could help, but then the building just in front of him exploded outward. He was thrown back over the fence, his back slamming into the guard station with a thump. Something cracked and he prayed it was the siding behind him and not a rib. 

He climbed to his feet with a groan, breathing shallowly as billowing black ash filled the air, reducing visibility to near zero almost instantly. He reached out, trying to stall the raging inferno in front of him, wrestling with his mutation until sweat rolled down his temple, but nothing he did had any noticeable impact. 

The guard coughed behind him, leaning against a nearby tree as he squinted at the flames. Keith whirled toward the sound, a sudden idea sparking as he stalked forward. 

He grabbed the guard by the throat, slamming him against the tree. The man gave a squeak of surprise, of fear and then drew in a rasping breath as he strabbled against Keith’s hold. He tried for a kick, but Keith batted it away with his free hand, driving a fist into the man’s midsection. He went limp. 

“What resistance leaders are they attacking?” Keith growled, tightening his grip. 

“I don’t know,” the man croaked, and Keith brought some of the heat that simmered under his skin to the surface, let his hand become warmer and warmer until Keith could smell the flesh sizzling under his fingertips. 

The guard screamed, his eyes screwed shut and he gasped, “They’re looking for the Altea family, for Takashi Shirogane, for the Holts, that’s all they said. If any of them tried to leave I was to stop them!”

Keith let go, disgust ratcheting through him as the man collapsed to his knees, clutching at his blistering throat. He thought about killing him, briefly, but instead landed a solid kick to his temple that sent the now unconscious man sprawling. 

He let the numb feeling overtake him. Found that fine line between feeling and losing control and existed there. They had Shiro, Allura, Matt, Adam maybe. Mr. and Mrs. Holt and their daughter, whom Keith had only briefly known in high school. Mr.  and Mrs. Altea. Where were the girls? Were they trapped in the flames? Charlie. She wasn’t his daughter, she wasn’t but his heart said something different, said that he’d failed her, failed Liz too. 

He entered the fire. 

The G.A.L.R.A. soldier he found first had no idea he was coming. He slammed his palm into the guy’s mask and it ripped free, exposing him to the heat and smoke. 

“Where did they take them?” he bellowed, snagging the man’s arm and dislocating his shoulder with a quick jerk as he propelled him forward, out onto the street, “Where are the resistance leaders?”

“I don’t know!” The guy cried, stomping on one of Keith’s feet. He tried to displace Keith with a strategically situated elbow, but Keith absorbed the blow and broke the man’s arm. He fell to the ground with a groan, clutching his side as he writhed. Keith was already moving on. 

He stole a knife from one of the men with flame throwers just before he put three new holes in the guy. He didn’t know anything either. 

He made it to the new house. There was no one inside. He walked through each room, ignoring the way his clothes went up in flames, the smoke that filled his lungs. There were no bodies, no piles of ash that could have been his family. 

The next G.A.L.R.A. he found was an officer. Perfect. 

He came from behind the man, jabbing the blade into the back of his knee with little fanfare. The guy swore and swung blindly, missing as Keith ducked under his blow, rolling to the man’s front. Despite having little use of one leg, he landed a solid punch to Keith’s upper arm and the limb went numb. He dropped the knife, his fingers unresponsive, throwing a crescent kick to the guy’s chin. The officer’s head snapped back and he grunted, his eyes unfocusing for a second. 

A second was long enough. Keith surged forward and tackled him, pressing a blazing hand to the side of the man’s face. 

“If you don’t want me to scoop out your eyeball with my bare fingers,” Keith said pleasantly, “I suggest you tell me where they’ve taken the resistance fighters.”

“They’re being transported,” the man groaned, eyes wide. He was just like the others, trained to fear mutants above all else, to fear and hate them. Keith didn’t care. It worked in his favor in this case, “They’re probably almost to the Santa Maria facility on the west side just past 84th street.”

“Who do they have?”

“Takashi Shirogane,” the man panted, his eyes wild, “Samuel Holt, Matthew Holt. The Altea family, Adam Shirogane, Eliza Shirogane and Charlotte Shirogane are all reported to be missing. Don’t-”

Keith shot him with his own gun and stood. He ripped off what he could of the guy’s uniform and threw it on, shoving the pistol into the waistband of his pants. The knife he scooped up and kept in his tight grip, ignoring the ache in his ribs, in his arm. He had a job to do. 

He hotwired a G.A.L.R.A. SUV and drove it at top speed to the facility the officer had named. It wasn’t far. He didn’t give himself time to think before he crashed it into the side of the facility, didn’t give himself time to panic, to chicken out.  Alarms blared, airbags went off, and he would have launched through the front windshield if he hadn’t been strapped in. 

As it was, he was pretty sure that the seat belt had broken at least one of his ribs, if the explosion hadn’t. His shoulder wouldn’t move quite the way it was supposed to, his nose was definitely not meant to tilt that way and he’d knocked out one of his front teeth. There was a piece of the dash stuck through his hand and the crushed front end had twisted his ankle, but he still managed to wedge himself out the front of the vehicle through the destroyed windshield. He was in the facility, the glowing purple fluorescent lights that the G.A.L.R.A. always used after dark reigniting his nightmares as he stumbled down the hall. 

G.A.L.R.A. soldiers came at him from down the hall but he shot them before they had the chance to ask who he was. He trailed flames as he walked, the floor melting under his bare feet. Small fires ignited and burned merrily to light the way he’d come. 

He ran out of bullets before he got to Shiro. He engaged in stealth then, slitting the throats of two men before they could cry out. His arms ached and he just wanted to rest for a few minutes, but he had to get to them, had to save them. 

He found the garage, found where they were unloading the prisoners. Shiro was still in the back. He was unconscious, the only one who wasn’t awake and shuffling out of the truck in a line. 

No one was in the driver's seat. Keith changed that. 

He hopped up, slamming the door shut and locking it before any of the G.A.L.R.A. could make a move to stop him. He shut the door with the button conveniently labeled “loading door” and with a squeal of tires, backed out of the open garage. 

He knew for a fact Shiro was in there. He also knew for a fact that neither Matt Holt, nor Samuel Holt were. He watched them grow smaller as he drove away, burying the feelings of regret. 

They were followed for a significant distance, but Keith ripped the 9 mil that someone had strapped under the seat from its holster and blew out their tires. He’d never been the best shot, but Shiro had taught him how to use a gun in case he ever needed to. It still took the whole clip until they were alone on the road again. 

He drove in the general direction of the compound, parked on the side of the road and slid from the seat. Everything hurt and he wasn’t sure he would make it much further driving, but he had to check if Shiro was alive, if he’d made it. 

When the door finished opening, it revealed three people on the bench seats. Shiro was still cuffed in, his head lolling to the side. Of the other two men, only one moved, a G.A.L.R.A. soldier who watched Keith approach with frightened eyes. 

“Either you can leave and give me the keys,” Keith told him, “Or I can kill you.”

The man left. 

The other occupant of the truck was an older gentleman. He wasn’t breathing. Severe burns covered his legs and arms- he’d probably gone into shock at some point and with no medical attention had deteriorated. Keith knew the feeling. 

He sat down heavily on the bench next to Shiro and unlocked the cuffs. Shiro hadn’t been in the compound when it had gone up in flames, that much was obvious. There were bruises on his face, his neck, hands too, and Keith was sure they littered more of his skin under his clothes. He’d been at the restaurant, waiting for Adam. The G.A.L.R.A. must have found him there, beat him to hell and forced him into the back of the truck.

Once Keith was pretty sure Shiro wasn’t going to die on him, he dragged the older man’s body into the ditch on the side of the road then hefted himself back into the truck.  He settled on the floor, next to one of Shiro’s feet. 

He intended to stay awake and wait for someone to find them, whoever it was, because he wasn’t sure he could move enough to get back into the driver's seat, but no dice. When he woke, Allura was standing there with the girls, aggressively slapping his cheek. 

He shoved her back before he really had time to figure out who she was, his teeth bared and his knife at the ready. She glared at him from where she’d sprawled onto her ass, Charlie and Liz’s surprised faces lit harshly by the overhead lights. 

His chest heaved. He stared between Allura, Charlotte, Eliza and then he let the knife clatter to the stainless steel beneath his feet. He was covered in blood and ash and was wearing a G.A.L.R.A. uniform, and he was sure they probably didn’t recognize him, he didn’t recognize  _ himself,  _ but then Charlie stepped into his range and he pulled her into his arms, sinking to the floor. She was alive, she was safe and let his fingers absently comb out the tangles in her black hair as he held her. He’d thought, worried, feared, that he was never going to see her again. She accepted his attention with a little sniffle, her arms wrapped around his neck. 

Eliza was too scared to approach, clutching at Allura’s hand. Allura knelt in front of Keith, comforting Liz with a quick word as she watched Keith and Charlie, something unreadable in her kaleidoscope blue eyes. It morphed, quickly, into pain. 

“My family is alright,” she told him without being asked. He gave her a quick smile, and she continued, “The Holts are still in captivity. I checked Shiro, and I don’t think it’s anything Coran can’t fix.”

“Good,” he said, fighting the urge to cough. He was resistant to fire, smoke, and heat, but he wasn’t impervious. His lungs burned. 

“We… we can’t find Adam,” she said, and there, that was the source of the anguish in her expression. 

“What? The G.A.L.R.A. have him?”Keith asked and Charlie shifted in his grip, confusion wrinkling her small button nose. She looked so much like Helena when she did that it made something twinge in Keith’s chest. 

“No,” Allura shook her head, some of her white hair falling across her shoulders as she did so. It was up in a ponytail, disheveled and singed, “Keith he’s… he wasn’t taken by the G.A.L.R.A. He’s not with any of the survivors either.”

“He wasn’t in the house,” Keith argued. Panic bubbled up, catching in his throat, “Lura-”

“There were a couple witnesses who said he was going to the community center,” Allura said, and she was crying now, thick tears that spilled over and trickled down her cheeks, “It was the first thing to go up, Keith.”

“No,” he said. There wasn’t any feeling in it, not the first time he said it, not until the anger began to break through, “No,  _ no  _ he can’t be- he’s not-”

“We don’t know for sure,” Allura’s words are thick, barely able to be understood, “We’re still looking.”

They were still looking. They would find him, they would-

“Still looking for who?” Shiro groaned from behind them and Keith couldn’t do it, he couldn’t look at his brother when he found out that his husband was very likely dead, at the least missing. 

“Adam,” Allura whispered, “We… Shiro we can’t find him.”

“What happened?” Shiro asked. He was calm, collected, and as much as Keith didn’t want to, he found himself turning toward Shiro, Charlie still in his arms. 

“There were bombs set off in the compound, soldiers came to collect everyone. They tried to take resistance members. I hid in the Astral Plane with the girls but you and the Holts were taken. Adam… they think he might have been in the community center when it went up, Keith says he wasn’t home and I-” Allura sucked in a breath, trying her best to keep it together, “I can’t find him, I tried Shiro I-”

“You’re saying you think… you think that Adam is…” Shiro’s face was white. Eliza finally let go of Allura’s hand, and with a cry, flung herself into her father’s arms. It had to have hurt, but Shiro didn’t even flinch, accepting her without protest. His posture mirrored Keith’s as he curled around his daughter. He was obviously beyond grateful that she was okay, but he was reeling, uncertain how to react to the news about his husband. 

“We’re still looking,” Allura reassured him, but there was no hope in her tone. They were looking, but no one really expected to find him. 

They didn’t. 

 

**Two Years Ago:**

They ended up going pretty far underground after that. Keith found out two weeks after the explosion that the guy he’d been seeing, Wes, was among the missing. Shiro tried to console him, but next to the loss of Adam, it seemed pretty insignificant. 

As the G.A.L.R.A. started taking over by force, huge sections of the city were burned to the ground. Entire towns were razed. The sections they succeeded in conquering were totally remade, created to suit the needs of the G.A.L.R.A. It was mass chaos. 

Allura and her family were doing their best to keep things under control, but it was a thankless job. Most people were too scared to do much more than take the assistance offered and then disappear. They kept trying to build a solid resistance, but with how frequently they had to move, it was nearly impossible to form a large following. 

The G.A.L.R.A. locating their base of operations wasn’t a rare occurrence. It happened often enough that they all knew their escape strategies, had everything down to near professional levels. 

So he wasn’t surprised when the alarm rose during one of their supply run meetings. He wasn’t allowed to take part, per usual, Allura’s father only very reluctantly let his own daughter and Shiro participate, so he was strapped with babysitting duty. People began shouting, scrambling for the exits, and he calmly instructed Eliza to get up for a piggyback ride and settled Charlie on his hip. This was the second time this week they’d had to evacuate from somewhere and neither girl protested, listening to him without a single complaint. 

This time though, when he got to the appointed exit, Shiro was standing there, his face pale. 

“Shiro?” Keith asked, and his brother rushed over to him. 

“We’ve got to get out of here, they had people on the inside. They got Allura, her family I don’t-”

“We’ve got to go back for them, we’ve got to-”

“No, Keith we have to get the girls out of here,  _ you  _ have to get the girls out of here-”

“Shiro  _ no  _ what-”

“ _ Leave!”  _ Shiro barked, shoving Keith forward, “ _ Go  _ I swear to God Keith, I’ve lost Adam, I’m not losing you too. I will go back for Allura but I need you to get somewhere safe!”

He went. 

He didn’t set the girls down until he was in the meeting spot, until he was sure they weren’t followed. Eliza immediately started asking about her mother, and Charlie too, little four year old Charlie, burst into tears when Keith said he didn’t know. He couldn’t lie to them. False hope wasn’t good for anyone. 

They’d only just started calling Allura “mom”. It hurt that they’d had to adopt a new parental figure, had to find a replacement for Adam, but they also needed a stable home and Allura was glad to volunteer. 

He tried his best not to curl up in a ball and just give up but he kind of ended up there anyway, letting his back slide down the metal wall til he had his knees drawn up to his chest. Charlie played with her doll to his right once she calmed and Eliza sat on his otherside, watching her sister. She looked like she wanted to say something to Keith, to ask him something, but her dark gray eyes were nervous, scared. 

He probably could have talked to her, to both of them, tried to make them feel better, but he didn’t. He just stared his hands, resting on his knees. Stared and stared because he’d just left his brother and his almost sister and her entire family behind. Left them, left them, left them or had they left him? He couldn’t tell the difference anymore. 

After a lifetime, Shiro materialized in the distance. Keith hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t the only in the safe zone, the three other occupants reacting with fear and suspicion upon his brother’s entrance. 

“Keith?” Shiro called, jogging over. His facial expression said it all. He hadn’t been able to get them, to save them. The G.A.L.R.A. still had Allura. 

They tried for two days to get them back. They didn’t succeed, just like they haven't succeeded in finding Adam. Before the two of them knew it, Allura and her parents were being dragged onto a stage. They were at the back of the crowd, watching, waiting for their opportunity to save who they can. 

But there was nothing they could do when Alfor was killed. Nothing they could do but watch and pray that some kind of opportunity presented itself. 

Except, Melinor suddenly exploded into light, her hair floating without any hint of a breeze. Shiro doubled over with a soft cry, clutching his head at the exact same moment. 

“What? What is-” Keith began, but he was interrupted by Melinor’s voice in his head, in his mind, his thoughts and his vision blanks. 

_ Five together as one. Elements collide. The G.A.L.R.A. will be no more and each of you with wickedness in your hearts shall be vanquished. _

There was a flash of pain, an agonizing burst that felt like an ice pick being driven through his skull. He saw Shiro, patting him on the shoulder, telling him  _ this is your team now,  _ felt panic, dread, because he didn’t want it, couldn’t do it-

And then he startled awake on his knees, gasping for air, Shiro doing the same next to him. By the time he recovered, by the time he could see the stage again, Allura’s parents were dead and Allura herself was nowhere to be found. 

 

**One and a Half Years Ago:**

When Allura returned, when they’d mourned and tried to pick up the pieces. When they’d finally gotten back to something resembling normal, Allura began to build the team. 

She’d seen the prophecy her mother spoke of. Seen that there would be five members, with her power acting as a bond between them. Coran and Allura managed to locate two of the five, bringing them into the fold. They planned a small team this time, something much more manageable and not so easily lost. Keith thought Allura was afraid of being betrayed again, afraid that if they tried to become too big of an organization she’d find herself in the same situation as before. She’d lost her parents because of someone’s terrible decision- he didn’t blame her in the slightest. 

He was surprised to find that the first two members of the team were Hunk and K-Pidge. He’d known them vaguely in school, known them as Lance’s friends more than anything else, people he hadn’t necessarily avoided but also hadn’t made significant attempts to associate with. Honestly, he hadn’t tried to be friends with  _ anyone  _ back then, so that wasn’t exactly odd. He couldn’t look at Pidge those first few weeks, too ashamed of the fact that he’d been unable to save her family, but Pidge was… persistent. She wasn’t one to let that kind of behavior fly. 

He was even more surprised to find that he and Shiro were two of the other members. 

“Shiro, you’ll be the head of this,” Allura sat them down one evening, her hair damp. They were all supposed to be going to bed and Keith had been put in charge of the bed time story, but Allura had wanted to discuss something with them first. Keith had thought it was to do with the girls, but this was… “I don’t know how I know, but you’re the oldest member, the one with the most experience other than myself. But I can’t lead if I’m the one providing the support. My role is a different kind of leadership.”

She seemed to have anticipated Shiro’s arguments before he voiced them. He was speechless, staring at her with both hands on his hips, eyebrows raised toward his hairline, “I’m… what?”

“You’re part of the team we’re building, the elementals that can combine power to become stronger than any one of them on their own. You’re going to lead this team.”

“Shiro, you’re a good leader,” Keith told him, “You know what you’re doing. You’ll be great.”

“Keith, you’re also a part of this,” Allura said in that tone of voice that meant  _ you’re not getting out of this no matter how hard you try. _ “You’re going to have to work with Shiro to help the others get adjusted, to help them figure out how to work together. You and Shiro are a strong team, the three of us are actually, but we’ll have to make it work with Pidge and Hunk. And I don’t even know who the fifth member is.”

“I… I can’t be,” he said. He was standing without remembering how he got to his feet, “Allura there’s no way I’d be a good addition-”

“I’ve seen you in the visions,” Allura assured him gently, “You’re there Keith. You’re part of this.”

“No-”

“Keith,” Shiro interrupted, his smile kind, as always, “You have the opportunity to be something great. I know you can be. Trust us, okay? If this is a team that’s destined to take out the G.A.L.R.A. you’re meant to be on it.”

He held Shiro’s unwavering gaze for a long moment, but all he could hear was  _ this is your team now.  _ What he saw a year ago and this moment are somehow connected. He knew they were, but he couldn’t pinpoint how. 

The idea of being on a team, of working together, eventually settled in. He got used to it. He wanted to join the resistance for so long that it was odd to be an integral part of it, to be Shiro’s right hand in leading this tiny team of five. It was weird but not… bad. 

He got too used to it. 

He hadn’t had an incident in months. He had ways to keep himself calm, to avoid falling off that cliff into the blazing inferno. He and Shiro worked long and hard so that he didn’t scare the shit out of the new recruits, their new team members. 

But once again, the G.A.L.R.A. were two steps ahead of them. 

They were in a financial tower, there for intel and to fuck with fund distribution if possible. Nothing major. Should have been pretty routine. But while he and Shiro were standing watch for Pidge and Hunk, things went south as they always did. 

The G.A.L.R.A. hit Shiro with something, some kind of tranquilizer. They shot the two of them from around the corner, Shiro straight to the neck and Keith in his calf. Shiro went down immediately, and G.A.L.R.A. officers snagged him before he could even hit the ground. 

“Shiro!” he yelled, racing after his brother, but they had a head start. He sprinted down the hall, expecting the exhaustion to sweep over him any second, but he was… energized. Refreshed. 

“Keith? What’s going on?” Pidge asked in his ear piece. 

“They darted Shiro. They’re taking him…” he paused, realizing he didn’t actually know, “Somewhere. I’m in pursuit. He’s unconscious.”

The G.A.L.R.A. officers were well ahead of him now. They clearly knew the building and he was scrambling to keep up with the twists and turns. He was hot, too warm and his breath seared in his lungs as he raced after them. Damn. Was he that out of shape?

“Are you okay?” It took him too long to process Hunk’s question, but he answered after what he hoped wasn’t much of a delay. 

“I’m fine. They got me too, but it must have been a dud or something, I don’t know. Shiro was out in like a half a second.” It didn’t make sense to him, but honestly he kind of stopped questioning why things happened the way they did a long time ago, “I’m almost on them, they’re-”

He had been prying the elevator doors back open after the G.A.L.R.A. tried to take the fastest way down with Shiro, but just as he got them cracked enough to slip through, one of the soldiers kicked him in the side of the head, sending him reeling. He slumped backward, his comm skittering to the carpet as he stumbled. 

The doors shut, but he thought he could probably beat them by taking the stairs. Even though he was out of breath, he was restless, powerful, adrenaline rushing through his veins-

“Keith!’ Pidge’s small voice came through his dislocated communication device. He’d almost forgotten about it. 

“Sorry,” he said, trying to remember what he was sorry for. He couldn’t keep his thoughts straight in his head. They were rushing through his mind so quickly it was almost impossible to grasp one, “Dropped the thing when I kicked the shit out of… of the… um…”

Wait, had he kicked someone? Or had he been kicked?

There was something warm pressed against his thigh and he flinched in surprise, glancing down only to realize that it was his own hand. Ablaze. Despite the fact that he was not telling it to be that way. It didn’t hurt, he was immune to his own fire, but he could register the temperature difference. 

“What the fuck?”

“Keith, I’m almost done,” Pidge said soothingly, “We’ll come grab you both. If you’re going to pass out, just stay put and we’ll get you.”

He wasn’t going to pass out. He was far too awake for that, “No, I… my hand.”

“What about it?”

“It’s on fire,” he tried to extinguish it, but it was spreading up his arm, and now his foot was ignited too and he couldn’t make it go away. He was so hot. Too hot. An inferno. 

“Keith, that’s your power,” Pidge said and he wanted to scream. He knew it was his power. Knew exactly what it was, but this wasn’t supposed to be happening, “Just put it out and go to sleep. Don’t fight it or it’ll be worse.”

“I can’t!” he tried to explain, tried to convey that this was bad, this was very, very bad and now both hands were engulfed. 

“You can’t what?” Hunk this time. 

“Put it out, I can’t-” the floor was crackling merrily under his feet. He was becoming energy. It was escaping through his pores, spreading across his skin, across the walls, the end table, the vase of flowers. He wasn’t going to be able to stop this, wasn’t going to be able to do anything because he was out of control. He was so warm he was cold, his breath flames instead of steam, “Oh god, you have to leave. Fuck the data.”

“I’m almost done-”

“No!” he shouted, because if he was going to go down, if he was going to die here, he didn’t want to be responsible for the death of two others who were the only friends he might have ever had, “Get out, please get out, that dart it was… it…”

He didn’t know what it was. Didn’t know why this was happening, but it was happening and he was barely holding on. 

“We’re leaving,” Pidge didn’t sound anywhere near as panicked as she should have, “Should I come down and get you?”

He took in the flames that already blackened the carpet, ate at the wall paper, tore holes in the ceiling, “No. They took Shiro. They took him and… you have to leave me. I’ll find you later, I promise.”

They had to get Shiro. They had to get out and rescue his brother. He couldn’t do it anymore. Wouldn’t be able to do it ever again, maybe. 

“Keith-”

“I promise,” he said wildly, willing to tell them whatever they needed to hear if it meant they got out alive, “Mic’s gonna melt in a second. Go.”

He waited until he heard them get outside, waited until there were the sounds of traffic echoing in his barely functioning comm. He held on until they were suitably out of range, his nails biting into his palms, the taste of blood on his tongue as he bit into his cheek. 

Once they were safe, once he could be sure they would survive it, he let go. 

The explosion burst his eardrums. Everything within a radius of probably fifty feet incinerated. The building collapsed, debris crashing down around him, but nothing could touch him. There were people screaming, running, trying to get away. He could do nothing but watch. Watch, stand still, and breathe. 

He lost track of time. 

He was a dying star. An explosion that destroyed universes, his light dimming until finally, finally, nothing was left. 

Nothing except his corpse, shivering in a pile of ash. 

He thought he could be a phoenix, that he could rise from death and become new, that he could deal with Allura and the team, that he could still be whole. So he went back. Climbed from the rubble and wandered til he made it home. But Shiro was gone. Adam was gone. Acxa was gone. His dad was gone, his mom too. Even Helena. He’d hardly known her, but that almost made it worse somehow. 

And now, on top of that, there were all the people he’d hurt, he’d murdered. There were so many of them. It hadn’t bothered him before, killing the G.A.L.R.A. Or maybe it had and it was only then, only after he’d taken innocent lives that he let himself feel it. 

Allura wouldn’t leave him alone. He could barely stand his own company, and yet she was there, all the time. He finally told her what she wanted to hear. He couldn’t do it anymore. 

“Shiro’s gone,” he told her. He knew he was looking at her, but he didn’t see her, “They took him and I killed them. They’re dead. All of them.”

Despite his promise, despite the fact that he’d told himself that he wouldn’t be like his mother, despite the fact that the girls had just lost another father, he disappeared. 

 

**Nine Months Ago:**

He wasn’t alive, not really. He didn’t think, didn’t feel, didn’t care, for over six months. His face was all over the news. He was rated the most dangerous mutant of all time, beating out Lance McClain, the Cyclone. They were calling him “Red”, after the color he wore most often. In the video, he was wearing black too, but apparently his jacket was what the media wanted to latch onto. It didn’t matter. 

They show the most wanted list every morning on the news. Every morning he saw his own face, followed by the face of the Lance he knew from high school, the Lance he’d been such a dick to. Well, whatever, Lance had been a dick back. And now here they were, both of them, wanted criminals with dead families. 

It was fucking poetic. 

When Pidge and Hunk found him, finally, after nine months, he let them take him back. The team needed him. The team that Shiro had been a part of, had cared so much about. They were going to find him, to find Shiro. 

In actuality, he didn’t really care about any of that. The part of him that had hope, that believed he’d ever find Shiro again, was damaged. He wasn’t sure it could be repaired. 

He did care about one thing, though. He cared about the fact that he’d broken his promises, and now Charlie wouldn’t even look at him. Allura was pissed because he’d left her with two girls she was not prepared to take care of on her own. She didn’t seem real impressed with his excuse of “Well… you had Coran, right?”

It was okay. He wasn’t impressed with himself either. 

He did his best to make it up to her though. To make things tolerable. Eventually, she let him. 

 

**Six Months Ago:**

“Lance McClain is the fifth member of this team?” he snapped at Hunk as they maneuver Shiro onto a cot. His brother was missing an arm, had a high tech prosthetic in its place, but he couldn’t deal with his emotions about it, couldn’t deal with the overwhelming relief threatening to capsize him. Instead, he found something to be angry about. 

“Well… yeah, I guess,” Hunk answered, clearly uncomfortable. 

“When were you going to tell me?” He growled and Hunk shrugged. 

“I guess we didn’t plan on telling you, cause ya know, we meant for you to find out now.” Hunk said, his brow furrowed, “Sorry dude, but you’re not like… the guy in charge or whatever, we don’t have to run everything by you.”

Keith took a step back, fury rushing through him, “I wasn’t trying to be-”

“I know,” Hunk said tiredly, “Sorry I’m stressed out. And you’re being grumpy.”

“I’m not being  _ grumpy, _ ” Keith sucked in a quick breath, furious but not so angry he wanted to take it all out on Hunk. No, he wanted to save some of it for a certain special someone, “I’m being absolutely fucking  _ livid  _ Hunk because no one told me that  _ Lance  _ motherfucking  _ McClain  _ was the other member of this team. That I was going to have to put up with his  _ shit  _ until we defeat the G.A.L.R.A., however many years that may be!”

“This is why we didn’t tell you,” Hunk shrugged, and it was like he hit deflate on Keith’s frustration, “Damn. Shiro’s… cold. Really cold. Coran, is he alright?”

“I hope so,” Coran frowed, too absorbed with taking care of Shiro to chime in on Keith and Hunk’s petty argument, “Lance’s power may have had some kind of negative impact-”

That was all Keith heard before he stormed from the hospital room, murder in his heart. 

Later, of course, he felt bad, terrible actually, because he’d been pissed but not… that angry. He hadn’t meant to go off on Lance like that but it had just kind of happened. He wanted to explain, wanted to be an adult, to talk to the guy once he calmed down, but he couldn’t figure out how. 

So instead, when Lance was watching them in their group hug, when he lurked on the outskirts, when he looked like Keith felt sometimes, Keith invited him in. They were an odd sort of family, even if they didn’t look it, and if being a part of this group meant he had to accept Lance, he could do it. 

If only because Lance too, had lost everything once. 

Then they joined together, formed the bonds, and he saw, felt, Lance’s fear while his family burned in their home. He figured out exactly what fire meant to Lance, how much it hurt him, how much he feared it and he could feel what Lance felt when Keith had blown up at him that first day. 

Keith tried to leave him alone after that. He understood why Lance couldn’t stand to be around him. It made sense, and he wasn’t going to push it. 

But then they practiced, they trained using their power and for the first time since he was like fourteen, he could use his abilities again and it was… spectacular. He felt whole, alive, like a real, actual hero. He’d always tried to push his abilities down, pretend like they weren’t everything that they were and embracing them, actually using his full strength? He never wanted it to end. But it came at the expense of the energy of his other teammates. He had to make some changes, had to fix his abilities because he couldn’t go on watching the others harness their full potential knowing that he was holding them back. 

**Four and a Half Months Ago:**

At some point, he realized that Lance didn’t remember their moment in high school. All Lance knew was that one day, Keith was suddenly an ass to him and that was that. 

He thought that might have been about the time he stopped hating Lance, stopped being angry with him. Lance had been just a kid. He hadn’t known what he was doing, and Keith shouldn’t blame him for that. 

It made it so much worse when they fought because Lance always knew how to bait him, how to make his anger rise to the surface, how to get his blood boiling. He’d slip into that place of apathy, be removed and empty and then Lance would come along and rile him up. 

… Which… wasn’t a bad thing necessarily. It meant he gave a shit. It meant he tried harder on missions and started to recognize his impact on the team, on the others. He couldn’t just… let go all the time. He had to be involved, had to care. 

When Lance called him an addict, it hurt. But it was a wakeup call because yeah. He had been. He never wanted to be again. And he never wanted to be dependant on these power suppressants again either. 

 

**Three Months Ago:**

So he decided not to be. 

Lance was the only one who wouldn’t tell Shiro, was the only one angry enough, invested enough, disliked him enough to put up with him for a few days while he suffered. Anyone else would tell Shiro. Anyone but Lance. 

Lance was pissed about the fire, well, so was Keith. It was perfect. Not only that, but Lance could keep him cold, could make sure his temperature stayed in a healthy range so that he made it out alive. 

He was expecting a lot more protestation, a lot more fury, but there was just tired acceptance. 

And then a kiss. 

He hadn’t been ready for it. He hadn’t been ready for the first one either, freshman year of high school, but this one was even more unexpected. He was out of it, barely conscious and then he’d been brought back to awareness by Lance’s lips on his. He’d said something to Lance, he was pretty sure but he couldn’t remember what and he couldn’t breathe because he didn’t want this and yet he really, really did. 

He didn’t like Lance. Didn’t hate him, but also didn’t necessarily like him either. He was nice-looking, yeah, always had been. He’d matured from a kind of cute teenager to an attractive adult with smooth skin and sparkling blue eyes and soft hair and a nice jawline and a lean but definitely muscular body, but Keith wasn’t the kind of guy who was drawn in by looks alone. Lance’s personality could use some work and-

Ah fuck it, he wasn’t fooling anyone. Lance was hot. Sure, he’d fuck him if given half the chance, but that didn’t mean he wanted to kiss the guy when he was half delirious and a sweaty mess. There were a thousand other scenarios in which he would have rather kissed Lance again. 

Not that he thought about it. Ever. 

But then he lived, and he actually… talked to Lance? And it was… nice. When he let go of the baggage he had with this guy, the baggage that Lance didn’t even remember, they actually kind of… got along. Even with Lance’s fear of fire. With the suppressants out of the way… they could just work on it like two adults. 

Who would have guessed. 

 

**One Month Ago:**

“Uncle Lance!” Charlie whined, “I’m the ice princess, not Eliza, you gotta give me the snowflake!”

“Oh! Ohhhh no I’m so sorry Lottie, my dear,” Lance said in an over dramatic tone of voice that should have been annoying, but wasn’t, “And aren’t you the ice  _ queen?” _

He held out his hand with a flourish, and contained in his palm was a rough looking ice crown. Keith raised an eyebrow at it and Lance shrugged, but Charlie seemed delighted. 

“Right! Ice Queen!” Charlie fit the crown over top of her black braids, preening, “Look Liza! I’ve got a crown!”

“Your crown is no match for my dragon,” Eliza said triumphantly and tugged Keith’s sleeve, “Right? Uncle Keith?”

“Absolutely right,” Keith agreed, crouching next to her, “Alright Fire Queen, what’s the plan here.”

“Burn ‘em to a crisp,” Liz said matter of factly and Lance let out a surprised laugh from behind the opposite couch. 

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Lance said, holding his hands up in surrender, “I don’t wanna go to dinner deep fried. Truce?”

“Yeah, truce?” Charlie said, much too innocently. 

“... What’dya think,” Keith asked Liza, who shrugged, “If they wanna give up, we should let them.”

“We accept your giving up!” Eliza exclaimed, but when Lance and Charlie stepped from behind the couch, they were both holding massive snowballs in each hand that they launched in Liza and Keith’s direction. 

“Uncle Keith!” Eliza squealed, and Keith grunted. 

“Oof, yeah okay.” 

He sent a quick burst of flame toward the next volley, melting them with a sizzle. 

By the time the girls were tired out, both Keith and Lance were soaked, snow covered the living room floor and there were scorch marks on the ceiling. Everyone was laughing though. 

“You’re good with kids,” Keith commented as he was pulled toward the kitchen by Charlie. 

“Had a lot of cousins,” Lance shrugged, “You are too.”

“Uh,” Keith’s mind blanked. No one but Adam had ever said that before, and he didn’t know how to respond, “Not really. Just learned from watching Shiro.”

“Sureeee,” Lance teased, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone the fearless Keith Kogane’s biggest weakness is a six year old girl. She’s got you wrapped around her little finger,  _ Uncle Keith.” _

 

**Two Weeks Ago:**

He knew better. 

Shiro sent him to the sanctuary village solo, sent him there to help set up escape routes, defenses and to set up the training regime for the mutants who wanted to learn how to fight back. He was glad to do it, even though it meant leaving the team for two weeks. 

He’d gotten too comfortable being around the team, most of whom had seen his G.A.L.R.A. tattoo. Lance was the only one, the one he still hid it from, but it wasn’t on purpose. At least, that’s what he told himself. 

So he went to the community bathrooms since the home he was staying in didn’t have running water. He showered, changed, then stood, shirtless, brushing his teeth. He was alone, but he shouldn’t have expected it to stay that way. 

“Hey man,” one of the guys he’d been working with earlier waved to him as he entered, sweat darkening his blond hair, “You’re out here late-”

His words cut off. 

Keith turned to look at him, toothbrush still in his mouth. It didn’t stay there, clenched between his teeth, because the man was slamming his fist into Keith’s jaw as soon as the angle was right. Foam and blood splattered the mirror and Keith’s toothbrush clattered to the floor. 

“You’re with the G.A.L.R.A.? Only their lackys have that tattoo, everyone knows. You’re one of them!”

Pain radiated from his jaw, across his cheek. He spat and he was pretty sure one of his molars landed next to his toothbrush. Fuck. He shouldn’t have taught this guy how to punch so well. 

“I’m not,” Keith grunted, brushing his still damp hair out of his eyes. He tied it into a quick ponytail at the back of his neck, sensing that this was not going to go his way, “That was a long time ago and it wasn’t my choice.”

“Yeah that’s what the Nazi’s said too,” the guy snarled, his dark brown eyes furious. 

“No-” Keith sighed, but the man was already coming after him again. 

Keith backed up, his hands raised, but he ran into the wall sooner than he was expecting. He’d cornered himself, like a fucking idiot and to make matters worse, the guy was a mutant. 

Keith winced as the guy’s fingers sharpened like knives, each one of his nails turning into tiny lethal blades Keith had been showing him how to wield not two hours ago, “Can we talk about this? I can explain-”

He held out a hand, a placating gesture that in retrospect was really, really stupid. The man stabbed his index finger through the skin and muscle of Keith’s palm, the blade exiting out the other side of his hand with a burst of red. 

Pain rippled up from his hand, his wrist, reverberating up his arm and he had to fight for control, fight not to utterly obliterate this guy because he was just afraid. He didn’t know any better. Keith couldn’t-

The sharp point twisted and against all attempts to do otherwise, Keith let out a cry, his fingers spasming. The guy gave a self satisfied smile and Keith’s blood boiled, pulsing in time with his bleeding palm. 

In a show of  _ tremendous  _ restraint on Keith’s part, he used on foot to push the guy away from him. Cradled his hand against his chest. Said, “You’ve got this wrong, man. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here because I’m trying to help. But if you try to stab me again, I’m going to break off each of your fingers and see how many it takes jammed into your ears to puncture that pea brain of yours. Capiche?”

His hand throbbed. He was tempted just give the man what he wanted, to blow up and leave, never to return again, but he didn’t. For some reason, he heard Lance in the back of his mind. Heard  _ you’re not going to ruin everything because of this  _ and he took a deep breath. 

“I’m going to walk past you, bandage this up, and then I’m going to hold a training session for the rest of the night. If I’d really wanted to hurt you, you’d be dead,” Keith informed him, and the guy scowled, “Just saying. Have a good night.”

And like a true professional, the truly changed man he was, he walked out. The man didn’t follow, seemingly satisfied with the trail of blood that Keith left in his wake and the insults he hurled at Keith's back.

He held the training session until people stopped trickling in around three in the morning. Then he got up at six the next morning to assist with wall fortifications.

He didn’t see the man again, but there were whispers until he left. No one wanted him around for dinner, no one wanted to look him in the eye, to argue with him. They clearly wished he’d leave, but they didn’t have much of a choice. He was providing them with tactical assistance and that was something they couldn’t live without. 

But it was nice,  _ really  _ nice to go home. He didn’t want to say anything to Shiro or Allura, afraid they wouldn’t send him out on another mission all because he hadn’t been careful enough. 

But Lance had noticed, despite his efforts to hide the still healing wound. Lance had noticed, and hadn’t been weird about it. He hadn’t given Keith shit or treated him like he couldn't take care of himself, he just… accepted it as something that happened, something that sucked, and moved on. 

They’d started to get along… surprisingly well recently. Somehow, Keith hadn’t even noticed the transition from anger to annoyance, to mild annoyance and then fond affection. Sure, he'd recognized that he no longer hated the man but this was more than just the absence of hate. They still argue, of course, but it’s never serious or malicious like it used to be. They’re… friends. 

As Keith watched Lance hand him a glass of whiskey, his long fingers gripping the bottom of the cup, he thought it might be more than that. That what he felt when Lance laughed at a dumb joke he made, or when he accepted Keith’s hand to help him up off the mat or when he saw Lance holding Charlie with that big grin on his face, that feeling might be more than friendship. 

Considering how their last two interactions of the romantic variety had progressed, it made Keith considerably wary. 

 

**Thirty Hours Ago:**

Not wary enough apparently. 

He pressed a kiss to Lance’s collarbone, shoving aside the fabric there, unable to stop his hands from wandering along the waistband of Lance’s joggers. This was… not unexpected, he supposed, but still somehow surprising. 

Lance wasn’t straight. Huh. 

Well. Keith certainly wasn’t either and even if he had been, Lance’s bronze skin and toned abdomen and sharp jawline, his long fingers and eyelashes and his sea blue eyes would have brought him to this same conclusion. He didn’t know why his chest felt tight, why he couldn’t breathe sometimes when he paused and saw Lance’s flushed face, his parted lips. He ignored it. 

He wanted this, wanted Lance. Wanted to give him the experience that Keith hadn’t had, the experience of someone who gave a fuck. 

It was like everything was coming full circle. Lance was his first kiss and Keith was Lance’s first… well everything else. At least when it came to guys. And when Keith saw his hesitation, saw how nervous Lance was, how uncertain but also willing to push through his fears, Keith was ready to accept that Lance had had no idea he was bisexual in high school. Hadn’t had an idea until a few weeks ago, probably. He hadn’t meant to be a dick at that party, hadn’t meant to make fourteen year old Keith upset. He hadn’t known. 

He was just figuring things out as he went along, like the rest of them. 

 

**Thirteen Hours Ago:**

“ _ I know she’s your daughter!” _

His heart stopped. 

No one was supposed to know, no one was supposed to find out, this couldn’t be happening, she  _ wasn’t  _ his daughter, she was Shiro’s littlest girl, Shiro was the one she called Dad, not him, never him-

“No,” he heard himself saying, but it was through numb lips, “No you-”

“Keith, it’s okay, it’s- I don’t  _ care.  _ You can tell me what happened later if you want but it doesn’t bother me, it doesn’t change that I…” Lance still hadn’t let go of his face. His blue eyes were dark whirlpools, pulling Keith in, “I’m not going anywhere. We will get her back, and then if you want we can pretend like this never happened. I just want you to know that I get it, I understand, and we’re not going to let the G.A.L.R.A. take your daughter like they took you.”

Keith jerked back. Lance let him, a sad twist to his mouth as he did so. That was it, exactly, that was why he was so upset because they couldn’t take her back, they couldn’t have her, and Lance seemed to know exactly what was going through his mind. 

It was terrifying. Lance couldn’t know, if he knew he’d leave and Keith wasn’t really

sure he could handle that. If he told Lance the story, if Lance ever found out, he would be gone in a heartbeat. The team needed him. Keith needed him. 

The little seedling of warmth, of something like caring that had been cultivated in his chest suddenly became as cold as Lance’s skin, its newly sprouted leaves shriveling and falling. 

He didn’t have time to worry about Lance. Didn’t have time to think about the future or what he wanted or whether any of that mattered. Right now he had to focus. Lotor had his daughter, Lance was dealing with power accelerants and the team was God knew where. 

The G.A.L.R.A. was absolutely not going to take yet another member of his family from him. 


	24. Keith: Guess maybe I have Some Walls Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crow it's been forever! Here's another chapter if anyone's still reading this! :)

**Now:**

He wakes with a pounding headache and someone’s hand in his. His left temple throbs to the beat of his heart, a steady thrumming that makes it difficult for him to open his eyes. He doesn’t want to, doesn’t want to face the world, but the feel of fingers laced with his own coaxes him back to awareness.

The memories of the past few hours come back. Fighting Lotor, getting Charlie back. Lance stitching up his shoulder, splinting Lance’s dislocated finger, determining that the worst was over with the accelerant. Helping to carry Shiro back to the mostly intact hospital room. Cleaning out the garage, the area with the most fire damage, assessing the rest of the rooms. Everything’s mostly okay, the fire hadn’t raged long enough to cause serious damage, but he won’t be forgetting the look on Allura’s face when she took in the destruction anytime soon.

After they’d made a dent, after the girls had been cleaned up and hugged and cared for, after Shiro had been hooked up to the monitors again and Coran had proclaimed him on his way to recovering, Keith had snuck off to the rec room. He’d wanted some… peace. Quiet. To process the fact that he’d done what he told himself he shouldn’t with Lance, that what he knew would happen had happened and now things were going to be awkward. They were all just starting to get along as a team, to make things work and he’d ruined it by initiating something with Lance when he  _ knew  _ it could never work. 

Lance found out about his G.A.L.R.A. mark and hadn’t freaked out too much, which was… a surprise. But they’d only just- they’d-

He didn’t know what they were, and now Lance knew about Charlie, that she was his daughter and that was more than anyone would want to deal with. Why would Lance ever want to be in a relationship with him, with baggage like that? Lance was so… good with kids, he wouldn’t understand why Keith couldn’t be her father, why he couldn’t take care of her, protect her-

Apparently he’d fallen asleep at some point, because he’s on the couch, curled up on his side. His hand hangs off the couch a bit, palm up and a heavy weight tugs it down a little. He wonders if that’s why he woke up, because of the pressure on his arm, or if it was the headache. 

He shifts a little to get his face out of the cushions. He gets a glimpse of tanned fingers before there’s a startled gasp and the hand rips free almost painfully, Lance pushing upright from where he’d been apparently lying on the floor. 

“Shit!” he exclaims and then glanced up at Keith’s confused expression, “Fuck, I didn’t mean to fall asleep!”

He appears totally disoriented, his hair sticking up in the back of his head. His eyes are wide and wild, cloudy with sleep and he’s got the imprint of his sleeve on his cheek. Keith feels about the way Lance looks. 

“I didn’t either,” Keith grumbles, rolling over onto his back. His hand feels warm where Lance was touching it, probably his body readjusting to the absence of Lance’s icy fingers, “What’re you doing in here?”

“I couldn’t find you,” Lance says with a shrug. He doesn’t meet Keith’s eyes, “I got worried and thought  you might need to change your bandages, but then I didn’t want to wake you up. I was gonna sit here til you got up on your own but obviously that didn’t go as planned.”

“Obviously,” Keith mutters and pushes himself into a sitting position. He isn’t sure he wants Lance around right now. He can’t figure out why Lance would want to be around  _ him  _ either. He was the reason Lance got hit with the power accelerant. He was the reason that Lotor was targeting Charlie. If he’d just… stayed out of her life more completely, maybe left her on someone else’s doorstep-

“Are you…” Lance says softly, hesitantly, “Are you okay?”

“Bandages are fine,” he grunts. He doesn’t want to do this. Doesn’t want to talk about it, talk about any of it, because that means something will change and he’s not ready for that yet. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Lance glares at him, still on the floor. 

“I know.”

“So answer me.”

“Why?” Keith laughs. It’s low and mocking and Lance’s face clouds over. He doesn’t realize how much this actually hurts until he hears it. 

“Because I give a fuck, alright? Is that what you want to hear?” Lance snaps and Keith’s eyes refocus on him. Lance’s cheeks are red and there’s a splash of freckles across his nose. How did Keith not notice that before?

“No, it’s not,” he has to work to keep his voice hard, emotionless. He doesn’t want this, doesn’t want to do this-

“Keith you can pretend to be this immovable rock all you want, but your brother is in the hospital again, your daughter almost got kidnapped-”

“She’s not my daughter,” Keith teeth grind together so tightly his jaw aches and the pain in his temple intensifies. 

“She’s biologically your daughter,” Lance argues, “And you love her. You’re great with her, I don’t understand-”

“Babysitting every once in awhile doesn’t make me her dad.”

“Keith,” Lance sounds exasperated. His eyes are so open and honest and soft it makes Keith want to run, “It’s more than every once in a while. You’re with her every day. You read her bedtime stories. You’re the one who makes her breakfast in the morning, who plays with her in the afternoon. Sure Shiro shoulders a lot of the responsibility for the girls, and Allura does too, but there’s no mistaking that you have just as much of a role in Charlie's life as they do.”

His throat feels like it’s closing up. He can’t do this, he can’t, “I was nineteen Lance, I couldn’t take care of her-”

“That makes sense,” Lance assures him, “You didn’t do anything wrong, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that you don’t have to keep denying she’s your daughter. Hell I honestly think Allura and Shiro would be totally fine with you telling Charlie the truth.”

Tell Charlie the truth? No. Hell no. She deserves better than him, a better father than he could ever be and Shiro is the one who can give her that. It makes his blood boil that Lance thinks he knows, that he has  _ any  _ idea, that he has a single fucking clue-

“You wanna know what I think? I think you don’t get a say in this situation just because we fucked,” he spits. 

Lance’s expression collapses in on itself. It’s like watching a building demolition in slow motion. First the bottom explodes and then the rest crumples on top, until everything is in a pile of rubble. Keith regrets it as soon as he says it. He just wanted Lance to  _ stop,  _ because he can’t think, he can’t  _ breathe.  _

That wasn’t the way to do it though. He knows better. Or should know better, at this point. 

Lance is quiet. Keith thinks he’s going to get angry and leave. Maybe hit him. Instead, he just looks… sad. 

“You’re scared,” he murmurs, “I don’t blame you for that. I would be too. But family is something you need to hold on to, because you never know when they’re not going to be around anymore. This morning was a reminder of that. Think about it, okay?”

He does stand and walk out the door after that. But it doesn’t feel like leaving, not really. It feels like… giving him space. Like Lance is letting him think, letting him process. 

It feels like acceptance and caring and it just makes Keith want to put his own head through a wall. 

He fucks everything up. 

 

**Now:**

He makes it back into the hospital room at some point. He tells himself that he’s there to check on Shiro, not because Lance might be there. He tells himself he doesn’t care if Lance is upset with him. He tells himself that Lance isn’t at all right and that he, Keith Kogane, is scared of nothing. 

“Ah, there you are,” Coran says when Keith enters, “Allura was looking for you.”

“She is?” Keith pauses, taking in Shiro’s evenly breathing form, the beeping heart monitor, the circles under Coran’s eyes, “Know why?”

Coran shrugs. 

“Where is she?”

Coran shrugs again. His eyes don’t move from Shiro. 

“Coran,” Keith says slowly, aware he’s about to be a major hypocrite, “You alright?”

“I’m fine, m’boy,” Coran says, no inflection to his words, “Just tired.”

Oh god. He really messed up with Lance, “Look, Coran… you don’t have to pretend to be okay for the rest of us. We’re all shaken.”

Coran blinks, his arms around his midsection, “I… You’re right, I’m upset. Lotor got the best of me with a supply tray and Shiro nearly died because of my mistake. I could have warned you all, woken you up, done  _ something. _ ”

“Coran,” Keith says, hoping his tone doesn’t betray just how sad that makes him feel, “We’re all blaming ourselves right now, but there’s  _ nothing  _ you could have done. Lotor didn’t get away with Charlie, Pidge might have found some valuable information from Lotor’s hacking trail or whatever and Shiro is going to be fine. You said so yourself. I think, honestly, this outcome might have been the best we could have managed. We need to stop beating ourselves up over it.”

“I will if you will,” Coran says, but there’s a spark back in his eyes as he shakes his head, “You know, I think Lance has been a good influence on you.”

Keith, who had turned, intending to find Allura, pauses, “What?”

“You know what I mean,” Coran says softly, in that fatherly tone he gets sometimes when he’s trying to impart wisdom, “Just see where it goes, Keith. Lance isn’t the kind of guy who’s going to run away at the first sign of trouble.”

_ I know that.  _ He wants to say, but he doesn’t. Instead, “That’s easier said than done Coran.”

Coran snorts, “Sure, sure. Just don’t purposefully push him away. He’s upset right now, about something, wouldn’t tell me what. He really does care about you.”

“He… does?” Keith glances backward and Coran gives him a knowing smile. 

“You’re telling me that you didn’t know the ice rink was all for you? He’s gotten to know Charlie and Eliza so that he can spend more time with you. He volunteers to watch them when you’re around. Hell, he’s the only one that will keep sparring with you even after Shiro calls it quits.  _ Of course  _ he cares about you Keith. He may not recognize how much yet, but he will.”

“I... “ Keith stammers. He can feel that his face is red but doesn’t know how to make it stop. “Uh, I-”

“So go apologize. And see what Allura wants.”

“Yeah,” Keith hears himself saying, “Okay. Thanks Coran.”

“Anytime number three.”

He has the distinct impression that while he’d been intending to comfort Coran, instead he was the one who got the needed advice. Huh. 

 

**Now:**

“Hey Allura,” Keith says conversationally as he peers around the door into Charlie and Eliza’s room, “Coran said you were…”

He trails off when he sees that Lance is there, standing next to Allura. Lance’s face turns from worry to relief when he sees Keith, not at all what Keith’d been expecting. 

“Something’s wrong with Charlie,” he says without preamble, “We can’t figure out what and Allura said you might have an idea.”

Allura gives him a look of pleading and his stomach drops down into his shoes. He wants to throw up. He thought this was over, that they could move on, recover but it’s still going and he’s  _ tired.  _ His headache, which he’d been managing to ignore thus far, comes back in full force with a roar. 

But he steps forward and tries not to panic when he sees that Charlie is curled up in a ball on her side, sweat forming a damp halo on the pillow around her head. She looks like he imagines he might have when coming off the power suppressants. 

Could her power be manifesting? Is she going to have this same uncontrollable flame that he does? 

“She’s not… do you think… maybe she’s… her power-”

Allura’s staring at him in confusion. She has no idea that Charlie is his, that she

might have the same abilities he does. Lance on the other hand, seems to understand immediately. 

“We don’t think that’s what’s happening,” he assures Keith quickly, and relief floods through him followed swiftly by a more intense fear. If that’s not what’s wrong with her, then what is? “Look at her arm.”

He does. Charlies veins are a bright blue, far too visible under her pale skin. Everything suddenly becomes more than he can handle. He’s fine one second, he hadn’t lied to Lance this morning, he  _ is  _ managing and then he just… isn't. 

_ Acxa whimpers next to him as she watches the blue liquid travel down the IV bag up through the needle in the back of his hand. It takes a few minutes, but it slowly begins to take over, traveling up his arm, to his elbow, higher and higher until he can’t hold on any longer and he screams. Times a blur there's pain and then they're doing it again and then it's Acxa’s turn and he can't stop her cries from echoing in his ears-  _

“Keith?” Lance says softly and he realizes that he’s sitting on the floor, his head in his hands. Lance is in front of him, one hand hesitantly outstretched, “Keith can I…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, seeming not to know what to say. Coran’s words echo in the back of Keith’s mind,  _ of course he cares about you  _ and Keith shudders, because this isn’t how things are supposed to go. They’d won. Charlie isn’t supposed to be going through this. 

He thinks he must manage a nod because suddenly Lance’s arms are around him and their foreheads touch. It’s weird and it’s sappy and he doesn’t realize how much he needed this until he closes the space between them and kisses Lance. It’s a soft, needy, gentle thing and Lance responds in kind. There’s no passion, no sensuality, just the reassurance that the other is there and affection is returned. 

“How long have you been having flashbacks?” Lance murmurs but Keith shakes his

Head, “Alright, okay, that’s fine. I uh… I used to get them too, a lot, after my family died. I still have them, sometimes. Shiro does too. You know that though, of course you know that, god I’m just babbling now, I’m sorry-”

 It’s perfect, though, because hearing Lance’s voice is strangely grounding. It reminds him where he is, who he is. Reminds him that someone, for some reason, in whatever way, cares about him. He and Lance are going to have to have a long talk after all of this is over about what they mean to each other, but right now it just feels right to have Lance’s fingers rubbing a small circle at the tops of his shoulders. 

“You’re here now, okay? We’re all here.” 

He can feel them. Through the bond, can feel everyone’s concern. They’ve never felt

him like this before. Pidge sends probing thoughts full of curiosity and light, Hunk’s are warm and comforting. Lance’s are muted, his thoughts tangled together with his physical proximity. Allura’s are shock and worry, her surprise overtaking everything else. 

Shiro’s thoughts are notably absent. 

“I’m sorry,” he says to Lance, and his words are raw, hoarse, like he’d just spent the 

last few minutes crying despite his dry cheeks, “I-”

God he’s cycling through a whirlwind of emotions today, isn’t he? Anger, understanding, affection, regret, fear, worry, despair. It might be the most he’s felt in years. 

“We’ll worry about that later,” Lance says quietly, “I can… damn, um, yeah. I can  _ feel  _ that you’re sorry. I don’t know if the bond is stronger or-”

“No, he’s just letting us in,” Allura answers, and Keith suddenly becomes aware of

the fact that she’s been staring at the two of them with her mouth open for some time now, “He kept himself blocked off before.”

“Oh,” Lance says, turning his attention back to Keith, “Really?”

Keith shrugs. Sure, he had some walls up, but it shouldn't make that big of a difference. No one was completely open with everyone. He pulls back into himself just a little, regrouping, “Lotor did this to Charlie.”

Allura seems to recover from her shock over either seeing Lance and Keith being so… friendly or feeling Keiths emotions, Keith isn't sure, “What? How do you know that?”

“I had something like this happen to me when I was younger,” Keith says, hoping they don’t ask him to elaborate, “Lotor must have done something to her.”

His mind races. Pidge mentioned coordinates, something about it being near a medical facility, “We have to bring her to the hospital.”

“Keith we can’t!” Allura interjects immediately, “It’s G.A.L.R.A. run, in G.A.L.R.A. territory. We can’t!”

“We have to. Lotor has the antidote, the cure, whatever, the way to fix this, but he won’t give it to us unless we show we’re willing to cooperate. We go to the hospital, check her in, make it obvious, and we can see what he wants in return for fixing her.”

“You can’t seriously be thinking of negotiating-”

“Of course I am!” Keith snaps, “ _ Of course,  _ I am, this is Charlie, my Charlie we’re talking about and I’m not just going to let her suffer! We go in, prepared, knowing that Lotor will likely demand too much but we can’t play the game unless we can see all the pieces.”

“Keith is right,” Lance says from where he sits next to Keith, “It’s our only option unless we want to just wait and see what this does to her.”

“No, I-” Allura says. She looks stricken, tears pricking her eyes, “I… Shiro-”

“Would agree with me, and you know it. The three of us can bring her to the hospital, leave Pidge and Hunk here to hold down the fort and watch Liza. Coran can keep an eye on Shiro.” He feels better, more in control. They have a plan, something, a way to make this work in their favor somehow. He hates using his daughter as a bargaining chip but they don’t really have another choice. 

“This is a big risk, Keith,” Allura hesitates, “If it doesn’t go as planned…”

“I know,” he pushes himself to his feet, and Lance follows, “But we don’t have another choice.”

If things don’t go as planned, he’ll give himself up. He’ll do it in a heartbeat if it means the others are safe. 

 

**Now:**

By the time they make it to the lobby of the hotel, Keith headache is making him nauseous. His shoulder pulses to the beat of his heart, but he refuses to put Charlie down, her little hands clasped around his neck and her too hot forehead pressed against the side of his neck. 

Lance is right next to him and a little behind on his right side, while Allura stalks ahead of him, glancing from left to right as she presumably canvases the place. They walk up to the counter and a bored looking nurse hands Allura a tablet with information for her to fill out. 

“How are we supposed to do this?” Allura hisses as they take a seat. 

“We made it this far,” Lance shrugs, “Just put the truth on her paperwork and we can see how it goes.”

They fill in her information, putting Shiro as her father, adoptive, and leaving the biological parent section empty. Keith feeling of guilt intensifies as Lance gives him a meaningful look that he ignores. 

When they go back to the counter, the nurse motions to a doctor waiting by the entrance to a long hallway. The man hurries over, glances once at the chart and shakes his head. 

“What does that mean?” Allura asks, her voice rising, “Why did he-”

“I'm sorry,” the nurse says, and she sounds like she means her words, “We can't treat her without one of her parents present.”

“What?” Allura slams her hands on the front desk, leaning over it with her teeth bared, “You have to treat everyone, this little girl is  _ dying-” _

“Ma’am, please step back from the counter before I call security,” the doctor drawls, unconcerned, from his perch against the wall. He doesn't even look up from his chart as he says it. 

Lance tugs at Allura’s sleeve and Keith shifts Charlie against his shoulder. She groans, a sound full of pain and confusion that it makes his heart thud much too loudly in his chest. 

“You just need one of her parents?” Keith hears himself saying and Lance freezes. He turns almost in slow motion, his eyes wide and hint of anxiety in the press of his lips but Keith doesn’t get to hear what he might have said because the nurse nods and Keith’s already speaking, “I’m her father.”

Allura looks at him too, then, a shocked look that’s a mix of ‘what the hell are you doing?’ and ‘is this the truth?’ When she sees Lance’s expression of grim resignation, one hand comes up to cover her mouth and she slumps sideways into the counter, using it to support her weight. 

He has to do this. He can’t give himself time to think it through because then he might chicken out and he has to save her, he has to save Charlie-

“You’re not written here-”

“Look it up,” Keith insists, “Keith Kogane, subject number 8436K-002. She’ll be listed

as my daughter, subject number 8436K-003.”

The nurse darts a glance at the doctor, who gives her an affirming nod. She types something into the computer, her eyebrows rising slowly as she skims what’s on the screen, “He appears to be telling the truth.”

The doctor appraises him for a brief moment, clearly debating how to approach the situation, but Keith makes it easy for him, “I will go with you, with  _ her,  _ cooperate with whatever tests you need to run but you  _ have  _ to treat her.”

“Keith,  _ no,”  _ Lance protests, sounding strangled, “ _ You can’t!” _

But Keith’s already being ushered behind the counter by the doctor. The man in the white lab coat is speaking into a walkie, saying something about a secure room being prepared, needing syringes and cc’s and vitals taken and-

He tunes it out, fighting back the blackness that crowds the edge of his vision. He knows he’s going to a cell, to be put back in the place he’d hoped he’d never see again. 

As Charlie clings to him, her wide blue eyes darting up to stare into his with complete and utter trust, he knows it’s worth it. 

 

**Now:**

To his surprise, he was not brought to a cell. 

Instead, he’s ushered into a hospital room, where Charlie is promptly taken from him. He argues at first, but then she’s placed into the bed and an IV is inserted into her arm. She seems to relax, to stop making those sounds of pain and Keith finds himself lounging in a chair. 

He stays awake for most of the proceedings. The doctors inform him that they don’t know what’s causing Charlie’s illness, but they know who might have a cure. Keith knows this means Lotor, but he isn’t feeling too picky about how his daughter’s life gets saved in that moment. 

Eventually the doctor’s stop coming in and out. Eventually, the sun goes down and Keith’s alone in the room with a sleeping Charlie and long shadows creating grotesque monsters on the walls. His head is still pounding, making his vision swim and his limbs feel heavy but he’s afraid to ask for ibuprofen in case he gets something else. 

He isn’t sure when he falls asleep, but he wakes to a familiar hand on his arm, his forehead. 

“Hey Samurai,” a soft voice says, “How’re you feeling?”

He feels terrible. His throat is dry and he’s pretty sure his tongue has transformed into a cotton ball while he slept. His eyes won’t quite open all the way, but that’s okay because the glow of the hallway light makes his head feel like it’s going to split in half. His shoulder pulses and he sucks in a breath, shifting slightly as the agony rips through him and then he can relax. 

“Whoa, hey,” Lance says, concern bleeding into his tone, “You okay? What was that?”

“‘M fine,” Keith murmurs, using his good arm to scrub at his eyes, “Tired. How’s Charlie?”

“She’s stable,” the worry stays thick in Lance’s voice, “Allura thinks they’re waiting for direction from Lotor, but she hasn’t gotten any worse.”

It takes Keith a second to remember that Lance shouldn’t be here, that Lance

couldn’t be here- “How are you here?”

“I wasn’t about to let you come in alone,” Lance is defensive, angry almost,

“After you pulled a stunt like that I wasn’t just going to leave you without backup. I told them a bit ago that I was the one that got hit with the power accelerant, not you, and they let me in here for a bit in exchange for a vial of my blood.”

“Lance-”

“I know it’s dangerous, but you can’t very well be pissed at me when you pulled a self-sacrificing stunt like that,” Lance hisses. Keith can’t see his face clearly, but he knows it has to have that little dent between his eyebrows, the wrinkle next to the left side of his lips that he gets when he frowns. He can picture it exactly, and it’s almost scary that he knows it so well.

“Didn’t have a choice,” he protests, and Lance sighs. 

“We could have come up with another choice, if you’d given us time. But what’s done is done and we’ll figure it out. Allura and I are in the waiting room, we’re not going anywhere okay?”

“Mmm,” Keith grunts. He’s tired. He’s glad Lance and Allura are here for him, but he’s also exhausted. He hadn’t gotten more than a couple of hours of sleep the night before and he wants to rest. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Lance asks. His voice sounds like it’s coming from under water, the sweet siren song of the ocean. 

“Yep,” Keith enunciates. Lance seems to believe him, because there’s no more questions, just Lance’s cool fingers threading through Keith’s. They stay like that, intertwined, until Keith drifts off again. 

 

**Now:**

He wakes a second time to a pen light being shone into his eyes and a blurry figure leaning over him. 

He has the immediate gut wrenching reaction of horror and fear before it’s replaced

by pain. He wants to move, to run, but his shoulder is on fire and his skull is being crushed. Instead of throwing the defensive punch he wishes he had the strength for, he slumps to the side and tries not to vomit all over the chair next to him. 

There’s a prick in his arm. He doesn’t even flinch. That tiny blossom of a pain signal barely registers in his mind compared to the rest of his body. 

The figure steps away. It takes a second, but then the pain begins to ebb, fading to

nothing more than smoldering embers. He can see again too,  _ breathe  _ again. He hadn’t quite realized how badly he’d been feeling all day until he feels normal again. 

He straightens, pushing his hair back from his sweaty forehead just in time to see the figure injecting something silver into Charlie’s IV.

“What’re you-” he’s on his feet before he thinks about it, prepared to launch himself at this unknown assailant until the woman turns and he realizes that it’s Axca. She looks wide eyed and nervous, one hand outstretched toward him in placation. 

“Let me save her, and I will explain everything.”

“No,” Keith growls, taking another step forward, “Leave her alone, I can’t  _ trust  _ you-”

“I just saved  _ your  _ life,” Acxa pleads, “ _ Let me save hers.” _

That stops him. Because he thinks it’s true. Maybe. He lets her deposit the silver

liquid into the IV bag, watches at the color returns to Charlie’s face, as the blue veins visible all the way up to her throat start to receed. He watches all of this, and then, still exhausted, plops back into his chair. 

“Explain.” Is all he says. 

“Lotor told us what he did,” Acxa’s hurried, rushed, her words tripping over one 

another in their haste to escape her lips, “He gave her something that reacts to her mutant genetics and stops them, I don’t really understand the mechanics of it. He coated my blades in the substance before we left, so when I hit you… He wanted to see the effect of it, and to determine if his cure worked. It does, he’ll be glad to know. He wanted leverage with your team, wanted to form an alliance or  _ something  _ I don’t know. He hasn’t been making a lot of sense these days.”

Keith doesn’t say anything when she pauses, and she continues with a quick glance in his direction. 

“He told me what he did and I knew I needed to fix it. He was talking about letting

her die, letting Charlie die, right in front of me and he  _ knows  _ you’re my brother. I’m just. I’m tired, Keith. Of all the hate and the fighting and the killing. I want it to end.”   

“So you came here with the cure.”

Acxa nods, some of her blue black hair falling from around her ears, “I wasn’t sure how much longer you’d last.”

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t do this for you,” she sighs, her blue eyes distant, “Not really. I did this because I think I still hope that we can all get along. Mutants and humans. You reminded me of that, your team. That’s why I’m going to tell you that something you’ve been missing is located at the mountain base camp in what used to be Greensten.”

“Something I’m missing?” Keith blinks, and Acxa shrugs. 

“I don’t know what it is,” she moves backward, fluidly, gracefully, like the 

controlled movements of a prowling cat, “Just that it’s important. Lotor plans to use it as a backup plan if he has to. I would hurry there.” 

Then she’s gone, slipping out the window without another sound. Charlie’s beginning to stir on the bed though, so he doesn’t see how she does it. He’s a little preoccupied. 

“Hey Little,” he says, so happy that his insides feel like goo when she opens her eyes. It doesn’t even register to him that he’d probably just narrowly escaped death a few minutes ago. What matters is that Charlie is alive and well and things are  _ getting better.  _

“Papa?” she murmurs, and his heart sinks when she can’t seem to focus for a second. But then her eyes latch on his and she says with glee, “Big!”

He hugs her, pulling her up off the bed and into his arms. She doesn’t even protest, just lets herself be squished until she says in a very very small voice, “Big, where are we?”

“You got sick,” he says thickly, into her hair, “You got sick and I was worried so I brought you here to get better. And you did get better.”

“Oh,” Charlie whispers. And then, “Are you really my dad?”

“What?” Keith pulls back as if scalded, putting space between them, “I’m- no, Shiro, Papa, he’s your dad.”

“You said to somebody ‘Charlie is my daughter’” Charlie doesn’t look upset, just curious, even as she deepens her voice to mimic Keith’s. 

“I…” he doesn’t know how to lie to her. How to convince her that she’s wrong that what she heard wasn’t true. But then he thinks of Lance’s face, of his voice saying  _ you didn’t do anything wrong.  _

Maybe… maybe Lance is right. He’s been holding it in all these years, holding onto the idea that having Charlie was a mistake, that becoming involved in her life was a mistake. But  _ Charlie  _ isn’t a mistake. Having her wasn’t either. And giving her a life with people who love her wasn’t a mistake either. 

_ You don’t have to be so afraid anymore  _ a voice that sounds suspiciously like Lance whispers in the back of his mind and then before he can freak out or over think, he croaks, “Yeah, Charlie, I was telling the truth. I’m your biological dad.”

She smiles up at him, the sweetest, widest smile. He says, “You’re not mad?”

“No,” she scoffs. She’s still sitting in his lap, one of his arms supporting her back as she leans forward to hug him again, “Papa is still Papa and Dad is still Dad and I’m still Little and you’re still Big.”

She pats his cheek. He’s pretty sure he just got out wisdomed by a six year old, but he doesn’t complain. “You’re right.”

“I know,” she says in a singsong voice, “Dad told me when I was real little that he adopted me. I knew for a loooooong time. And Papa said once something about how I look a lot like you and then he said I look a lot like my real father and-”

She cuts herself off and taps the corner of his eye, “My eyes look like your eyes.”

“Grandpa was Korean,” he says and these are things he never imagined that he’d be saying, ever, “That’s why our eyes look like that.”

“And blue!” she points to her own eye, “Lance’s eyes are blue too!”

“I’ve noticed,” Keith says and then Charlie gets a shrewd look, a look he knows too well. She’s about to say something he’s not going to like. 

She points to him, “If Shiro is my papa and Adam is my dad and you’re my daddy does that mean I have to have a name for Uncle Lance too?”

“What?” Keith, still caught off guard by how well Charlie is taking this whole thing, takes a beat too long to process her words. 

“You love Uncle Lance. I heard Papa tell Mom,” Charlie says matter of factly, “Mom

says that Uncle Lance loves you too! Papa and Dad love each other and Eliza said if you and Uncle Lance get married then Uncle Lance would  _ really  _ be our uncle but you’re not my uncle you’re Daddy, so does that make Uncle Lance…” she wrinkles her nose, thinking, while Keith gapes at her, “Papi? Uncle Lance calls his dad that-”

“Only if I  _ agree  _ to marry him,” Lance says from the doorway and Keith groans. How much of that had Lance heard? He doesn’t love Lance, he doesn’t even know if he likes him.  _ That’s a lie. You like him and you’re afraid of what that means,  _ “You’re gettin a little ahead of yourself there kiddo. Your daddy is a pain in my-”

“Lance!”

“Rear, Keith, I was going to say rear. Have you no faith in me? Sheesh.” Lance holds a hand over his heart, a wounded expression in place that’s so fake it almost makes Keith laugh, “We’re about to head out though. Acxa dropped by a minute ago to tell us what happened and I’m here to break you out.”

“How’d you get past the doctors?” Keith frowns. 

Lance materializes Blue, his hand wrapping around the fur at the back of the lion’s neck, “Blue got me through a small section of the astral plane. We’re going to need to go there to get out.”

“I’m not taking Charlie in there,” Keith argues and Lance bites his lip, looking

apologetic.  

“We don’t really have a choice,” Lance informs him, “I heard them say Lotor is on his way. I’m not taking out any of the doctors, and I’m not going to let you either. We go through the astral plane or we risk being spotted by the guards and being stuck here.”

“Lance-”

“We don’t have time to fight,” Lance huffs out an angry breath, “Allura’s there right now keeping the portal open for us to re-enter.”

Keith ignores Charlie’s wide eyes as he gently pulls the IV from the back of her hand. She lets herself be carried again, despite the fact that she’s almost too old for this and she’s not sick anymore. She seems to understand that this is a serious situation and despite the fact that she’d just had a bomb dropped on her about her heritage, she needs to trust both of these men in front of her the same as she always has. She just clings to Keith’s neck and doesn't react when Keith summons Red. She wouldn’t, because she can’t see either of the lions. 

Keith’s connection to the others flares and he feels  _ worry worry worry worry worry  _ but he manages to break through and send a wave of calm into the sea of stress. Immediately, the others seem to relax, the message that Charlie is okay somehow conveyed. Lance ducks his head to hide his smirk, but Keith still catches a hint of it as they step into the hall. 

“What.”

“Nothing,” Lance whispers, but the smile is still there, “Just nice to finally have you on the team is all.”

“Whatever,” Keith grumbles, but he secretly agrees. He likes feeling the others in his mind. Before, he had to block himself off- it was too much all the time and he couldn’t figure out how to deal with it, but now it’s reassuring. His family is alive, they’re okay. Well, most of them. 

Their smiles fade like the setting sun when they see Allura crouched with her back to them. There’s a small circle of pale purple light come from around her silhouette and Keith clutches Charlie against him a little tighter, “Hey Little, while we’re in here, I need you to keep your eyes closed and your ears plugged, okay?”

“Why?” her lower lip quivers and Keith feels terrible for scaring her but he doesn’t want her to know what lies beyond that portal just yet. She's been through a portal a few times, but this is always Allura’s rule, “Uncle Keith-”

“Your mom is gonna take us through a dangerous place. Remember the Astral Plane? That's where we're going. I’m going to keep you safe, okay? But I want you to promise me that you’re going to keep your eyes closed, and your ears plugged.”

“Okay.” her voice is tiny, small, but she’s his daughter and she’s strong. She does as he asks. Once she’s nestled against his chest he sends Red in first to tell Allura of their arrival. She widens the portal, they climb through, and then the hospital behind them disappears and they’re surrounded by the inky blackness of the astral plane. The sky purple, everything is hazy, and far off in the distance, something roars. 

“I’m going to get us back to Arus,” Allura assures them. Keith checks that Charlie’s eyes are still closed- they are, and he presses a kiss to the top of her head. Some of the tension in her melts away, and though Keith has done that maybe a thousand times since she’d been born, it feels different this time. This is his daughter. She knows now, hasn’t rejected him, hadn’t freaked out even, and they’re going to find a way to make it work. 

The roar is louder now. Allura picks up the pace and Red bristles next to him. There’s a voice, in the back of his mind that he’s never heard before. It’s androgynous, impossible to tell if it belongs to a male, female, or even something human. 

_ We should hurry.  _

Keith starts, “Did anyone else hear that?”

“Hear what?” Lance asks, brows furrowed as he turns to look at Keith and Charlie. 

“Nothing… I-”

_ They can’t hear me. Only you are connected to me in such a way that allows our communication. You finally let the bond settle.  _

It’s Red. His lion. Talking to him. 

_ Can the others hear their lions?  _ He asks, in his mind, wondering if it’ll work or if he’s just going insane. 

_ Yes,  _ Red responds,  _ But we need to hurry. There’s something coming, something Rose, Blue and I may not be able to hold off on our own. _

_ Fuck,  _ Keith thinks, because he can’t say it out loud,  _ Fuck alright okay.  _

In the first few weeks that they’d formed their connections with the lions and each other, Keith had spent a lot of time with Red. He’d talked to his lion when there hadn’t been anyone else to talk to- about Lance and Shiro and this new team. Red had never responded, at least not in words, and it hadn’t bothered him. This new development might take some getting used to. 

Red taps Blue’s hindquarters with his nose and then Lance is glancing over his shoulder with a glint of terror in his blue eyes. Allura too, is picking up the pace. They shouldn’t have to go far, distance in the astral plane is weird, but the roaring is loud enough to vibrate through his bones and Charlie gives a little squeak of fear. 

“Go!” Allura’s shouting, screaming, really, and Keith catches Lance’s eye. Lance turns, gives a wordless shout, and then spears of ice sail past Keith’s head, impaling something that’s too close, much too close. The creature wails and Keith starts to run, sprinting toward the glimmering portal that’s only a few feet away. 

Allura sprints through first, then Lance and then Keith follows right on their heels, stumbling, falling-

Someone catches him and Charlie both, something with a shock of white hair and careful hands, someone who’s smile has managed to cheer him up since almost as long as he could remember. 

“Shiro!”


	25. Shiro: Blank Slate

Takashi Shirogane has a difficult time remember most things that happened in his life. What he can recall is jumbled, out of order, blurred almost into unrecognizability. Sometimes, he can remember almost everything, and other times, it’s all… empty. 

He’s good at hiding this from the team. Keith suspects, Shiro can tell by the way he carefully probes, asking pointed questions that sometimes Shiro doesn’t have the answer to. It makes him feel small when Keith gives him the same look that Shiro’s given his brother a thousand times, that look of worry and uncertainty and flat out concern. 

He’d woken to find his team gone and a set of new scars in his chest. They matched the rest of the tapestry, it wasn’t what he was concerned about. His team though, that was what had him in a cold sweat, his hands crossed over his chest as he paced. His team and his daughter. Pidge and Hunk tried to assure him that things were going to be fine, that they were going to save Charlie and everyone would get back alright. He believed them, and yet some part of him didn’t. 

But then they’d portaled back right in front of where he’d been wearing a groove into the floor, and he’d stopped Keith and Charlie from eating shit. They’d decided to do a quick debrief, talk about everything that had happened while Shiro was out, something Shiro regrets now that he realizes today is one of the bad days. Almost dying does that to a person. 

“Axca-”  _ Keith’s sister. Keith, burning up with fever, calling not for Shiro but for another sibling that Shiro would never measure up to, could never measure up to. She’d saved him while they’d been in that place together, kept him safe and all Shiro can do is make him crappy stir fry and drive him to school late when neither of their alarms went off-  _ “She hit you with her knives that were apparently coated with some kind of poison. How’re you feeling?” Keith peers at him from across the massive slab of wood they use as their kitchen table. 

_ A small black haired boy with too many scars to be normal stares up at him. He’s crouched in front of a grave, a grave that has the name “Kogane” chiseled into it. This kid’s face is tear streaked and small and pale and so very broken that it brings Shiro back to watching first his mother and then his father’s coffins lowered into the ground. He knows then, that he’s going to do whatever he can to make sure this kid has a halfway decent life. The Garrison might have their reasons for wanting him to recruit potential heroes, but Shiro has his own.  _

“I-Fine. What did the poison do?” He hears himself ask. 

_ “Takashi, you’re  _ poisoning  _ yourself. For what? Your legs aren’t going to stay good forever, we’ve known that. You have to accept that this is happening sooner rather than later or you’re just going to make it worse for yourself in the long run.” Adam snaps. Shiro refuses to look at him. Sam glances between the two, looking for all the world like he’d rather be anywhere but in the middle of one of their arguments.  _

_ “Sam, you can go ahead and inject it now.”  _

_ “Takashi, I love you, but this is insanity! Do you think Keith would want this for you? You’re going to die  _ faster  _ just so that you can… what, help him with hero training? News flash, that’s all going down the shitter. You have a  _ daughter  _ to think about now, a little girl who is going to want her father around to walk her down the aisle, see her graduate-” _

_ “That’s not going to happen and you know it,” Shiro growls, “Regardless of if I try this now or not, I won’t live that long. So just let me have this, okay?” _

Lance hefts Charlie in his arms, poking her in the stomach as she squirms, probably trying to reach her dad. Lance, thankfully, keeps her occupied, because Shiro isn’t really sure he can handle trying to pay attention to an energetic six year old and his brother talking at the same time. 

“It targeted mutant DNA,” Keith says, glancing at Lance for some reason, “I don’t know much beyond that. But after we brought Charlie to the hospital-”

_ He just wishes they could bring him to the hospital, do this in a controlled environment, do this somewhere that if he crashes there are paddles and doctors and a team of people who know what to do. Coran is great, but he doesn’t have experience with withdrawal, doesn’t know how to save Keith if this doesn’t work. Lance seems to think he can do this, that he’s got it under control, but all Shiro can think is that he’s going to have to explain to Charlie someday that her biological father killed himself out of stubbornness.  _

_ But then he catches Lance’s fiercely protective stare as he cradles Keith in his arms and he wonders when he stopped being the only one who cared that much for his stupid little brother.  _

“-Axca fixed things, and explained what happened. She told us we would find what we’ve been looking for in a camp in Greensten.”

_ “Where have you been all my life?” Adam murmurs, his fingers ghosting across Shiro’s jaw.  _

_ “I’ve been there. Literally. Adam I’ve known you since we were little.” _

_ “God damn it Takashi, I’m trying to be romantic-” _

_ “Well stop, cause it’s fucking gross,” Keith snarls from the other side of the kitchen. Shiro had quite forgotten his brother was still there, dutifully making his own peanut butter sandwich for dinner. He’s still in the phase where he despises Adam and everything he stands for, but Shiro’s starting to see a few cracks in the armor.  _

_ “Language, you little shit-”  _

“Do we know what this thing is, that we’re looking for?” Shiro leans against the table, trying to hide that he’s actively losing it. It hasn’t been this bad in a while. He wonders if maybe Acxa’s blades were poisoned after all and it’s just affecting him differently. Does that even make sense? He doesn't think so. 

“No,” Keith shrugs, his fingers laced on the table. Pidge and Hunk exchange glances, and Allura sighs, her long, gentle fingers playing with Eliza’s hair. His eldest daughter clings to Allura’s side with a wide eyed fear, blinking at her uncle and her father with trepidation. 

_ He startles awake to a heavy weight on his chest. It takes him a second to realize that the weight isn’t a threat, but instead his newborn daughter, her lips parted in sleep and her tiny eyes closed. She snores lightly and he blinks, wondering when he fell asleep.  _

_ He glances to his right and finds Adam staring at him with a soft smile, the glare of the television reflecting off his glasses.  _

Pidge pushes off the wall, the bracelets she’d apparently started wearing again clattering together as she moves, “Interestingly enough, that would make sense.”

_ He has to protect them, to keep them safe. His team. His brother and Allura and Pidge are all depending on him and he has to keep them safe.  _

_ He calls on the power of the wind, summons it to him, bends it to his will. It isn’t enough, can’t be enough because there’s too many of them so he reaches further within himself to a place that he’d never known he could access.  _

_ When vines sprout from the ground, he doesn’t think anything of it, not until someone shouts his name, not til all the drones are dead or dying.  He has to keep them safe. He has to protect his family.  _

_ He turns to find Pidge breathing in uneven, stuttering gasps, to find Keith and Allura staring at him with barely concealed horror and he’s never felt more alone, more wrong, less human, less in control- _

God, this is bad. He sits down, heavily, suddenly, and Pidge gives him a strange look, but doesn’t comment. 

“Why does that make sense?” Hunk raises an eyebrow. 

“Because I narrowed down the location of the video I found in Lotor’s virus to three possible compounds,” Pidge explains. 

_ “Thank god he doesn’t live in the dorms anymore,” someone whispers as he walks past. He shrinks into himself just a bit more, hugging his books to his chest. He’d made a mistake kissing Nathan behind the bleachers. He knew they were likely to be found and yet he’d done it anyway. Maybe he’d been tired of hiding his sexuality, of pretending.  _

_ “I know, right?” A familiar female voice drawls from behind him. Immediately, Shiro straightens, the world righting itself as his best friend finally finds him in the after lunch crowd, “If he lived in the dorms, how ever would you resist such a hot bod as this?”  _

_ Allura drapes herself across Shiro’s shoulder, winking at one of the boys who’d made the comment and he thinks that if he were straight he’d be in madly in love with her.  _

“-and the one in quadrant 32. The last one is really close to Greensten. What if Matt’s there, and Lotor knows?”

_ “Lotor,” Keith mutters, his eyes roving around the room, not focusing on any one thing. Adam’s trying to get a good look at the bullet wound in his thigh while Shiro cradles this too small infant in his arms. “Lotor took her, Lotor did all of this, it was Lotor.” _

_ He’s slurring, his fingers scrabbling against the arms of the chair as Adam discovers the stab wound in his chest. Shiro sucks in a quick breath and then regrets it as the baby whimpers and starts to fuss.  _

_ “You said all that already,” Shiro murmurs, resisting the urge to crouch next to Keith because Adam’s got this and Shiro has to take care of this tiny human, “Her name’s… Charlie?” _

_ “Short for-” Keith’s words cut off as Adam prods gently at the partially healed gouge, “Short for Charlotte.”  _

_ “I think that’s a great name Keith,” Shiro says, and he has to look away when Adam begins to spread antiseptic on the wounds because it’s just not  _ fair. 

That particular memory leaves a bad taste in his mouth. He shoves himself shakily to his feet and makes it to the fridge without falling. He pulls the orange juice from the top shelf and drinks from the container, mostly because he isn’t sure he has it in him to recall where they keep the cups. 

“-ro?” Keith’s voice cuts into his efforts at remaining calm, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he rasps. 

_ He’s on the floor after a particularly rough flashback, something from his time with the G.A.L.R.A. He was tied to a table and they were measuring his arm and he knew that they were going to take something from him, his fingers, maybe his hand.  _

_ They’d taken more than that, so much more, but he hadn’t known that at the time. He’s alone. He both hates and is thankful for this fact.  _

_ Except, he’s… not alone? _

_ Black, the spiritual lion that represents his connection to Allura, to the power of the astral plane, rubs her head against his back. He’s only had this lion for a day, at most, but he feels… comforted by her.  _

_ When Black moves forward so that he can slide his hand along her spine, he notices that they’re louder now. The voices of his team. Keith is still muted, as he probably always will be, but the other’s strength and encouragement flows through him like a soothing balm the more contact he has with his lion.  _

There’s a hand on his shoulder. He can feel Black’s presence in the back of his mind, can feel the concern of his team and he relaxes, just a little. 

“You don’t have to lie to me,” there’s humor in Keith’s voice, only a hint of it that anyone other than him and maybe Adam would have missed. He’s saying  _ how can you insist I’m honest with you when you’re never honest with me? _

He takes a deep breath to tell Keith that he’s really fine, just struggling with some memory stuff-

_ “Do you remember that?” Adam laughs as he gestures to one of the pictures on their greeting table. There’s a photo album, in which each of the guests have been leaving their snapshots from the photo booth, and some framed images of him and Adam. This particular picture though, features Keith as well, looking younger and angrier, if possible. They’re engaged in an epic food fight, an image Allura took when she stumbled upon both Adam and Shiro shoving pie into Keith’s face at the same time.  _

_ “I wish I didn’t,” Keith grumbles from behind them. Adam ruffles his hair and Shiro pulls his brother into a hug.  _

_ “That was a great speech, kid.” _

He hates the ones with Adam. They cut into his soul so deeply it feels like they’re taking bits of his flesh as well-

_ “I can’t find him, I tried Shiro I-” _

_ “You’re saying you think… you think that Adam is…”  _

_ The world drops out from under him.  _

_ Just three hours ago, he’d been waiting for Adam, been in a suit ready for their monthly date night. They were going to go to the Opera afterward- he’d never been and Adam had decided to humor him this month. But then the G.A.L.R.A. swooped in and he’d fought and they’d taken him and then he’d woken up in the back of a truck with Keith who looked like hell incarnate and Allura’s devastation.  _

_ He’d woken and Adam wasn’t here. And now they’re telling him that he might never be there again, might be  _ dead,  _ is probably dead and Adam can’t be, he can’t be- _

He pulls himself from that one with a gasp. Keith’s talking to him a low voice, sitting cross legged in front of him. The rest of the room is empty, except for Keith. He wonders when the others cleared out. He’d been hoping to keep this under wraps, but he thinks the strain of nearly dying and then learning that his daughter and Keith both could have shared his fate tipped him into a place he’d been doing so well at avoiding. 

Things slow down a little. He realizes that Keith is nervously sharing some story about something he and Lance did two weeks ago when Hunk had been trying to make a certain dish for Shay- he doesn’t catch all the details but it does sound funny. 

“When did you learn to do that?” he croaks at Keith, who offers him an encouraging smile. 

“Learn to do what?”

“Talk. Like this.”

Keith snorts and then…  _ blushes?  _ “Lance. He does it for me.”

Lance talks to Keith to pull him from flashbacks. His brother shouldn’t be having them, shouldn’t have to deal with them, nightmares either, any of it, and something like guilt pools in his stomach. 

“No, don’t-” Keith growls in frustration, “Stop blaming yourself. You can’t control everything. Sometimes bad things just happen, Shiro and we deal with them in our own ways.”

“When’d you get so wise?” Shiro asks, one eye squinting in Keith’s direction. 

“Always been this way,” Keith sniffs. 

_ “He’s always been like this,” the social worker murmurs when she thinks that he can’t hear her, “He’s a star student, has great potential, but after his parents died he just kind of… takes care of himself. He doesn’t seem to appreciate the support others can offer him.” _

_ “I  _ can  _ take care of myself,” he snaps at his social worker, who sighs and shuts the door.  _

_ He still goes home with that foster family. It’s fine. They’re nice, but they’re not his parents. They respect that and give him distance.  _

_ He takes care of himself. All through the foster homes, until he’s 16 and he’s already able to work as a side kick and he gets his inheritance and he buys his own house.  _

_ He takes care of himself, until he’s taking care of himself and Keith and then himself and Keith and Adam and then himself and Keith and Adam and Eliza and then himself and Keith and Adam and Eliza and Charlie and then himself and Keith and Eliza and Charlie and Allura and Coran and Pidge and Hunk and then just himself, alone, in the darkness and it’s back to himself and a boy named Lance and then himself and Keith and Eliza and Charlie and Allura and Coran and Pidge and Hunk and Lance now too.  _

_ It’s a lot.  _

_ - _

_ He’s waking up, finally, after being in that place for so long, that place with the G.A.L.R.A. and the too bright lights and the pain. There isn’t pain any longer, but happiness and his family. Happiness that becomes overwhelming when Coran turns to him, a massive grin on his moustached face.  _

_ “I don’t know how they did it,” Coran says, looking so excited he might burst, “But they fixed it.” _

_ “Fixed what?” Keith asks, a little slow on the uptake, but Shiro gets it immediately. He knows. Has known for a while. He’d been feeling better, with none of the periodic numbness that used to trickle through his muscles, none of the weakness in his right arm.  _

_ “They fixed his degenerative disease,” Coran claps his hands and Keith whoops, his eyes shining.  _

_ Shiro wants to celebrate too, but he wonders if it was worth the cost. Was giving up a year of his life with those he loved, losing his arm, missing Charlie losing her first tooth, Eliza’s first broken bone? _

-

_ He watches Lance and Keith from across the training room, trying not to smile when he notices Lance’s linger touch on Keith’s upper arm, or the way that Keith takes way too long to move away after he’s got Lance pinned. He knows what Keith acts like when he’s got a crush, and this is definitely that.  _

_ Lance likes him back, Shiro thinks. They’ve been spending a lot of time talking, babysitting the girls, just being… together. They used to hate each other. Shiro can’t pinpoint the moment that all changed, it was too gradual for that, but it’s shifted so far into the opposite spectrum that it’s almost unrecognizable.  _

_ For the first time in a while, maybe since he’d gotten back to his family, he feels pleased. Not giddy with the joy that is freedom or elated that he’s with his family or overwhelmed with love for this wonderful but sometimes dense as fuck team, just… pleased. Keith deserves this. Lance deserves this. Hell, they all do.  _

_ - _

_ “Hey Adam, come look at Keith’s new tattoo!” _

_ “It’s very nice Takashi.” _

_ “You know, if this hero thing doesn’t work out, I should open a shop-” _

_ “No Takashi.” _

_ - _

_ The house feels empty.  _

_ It’s not empty. He’s got Eliza and Adam and Allura is over often enough that he’s considering giving her Keith’s old room, but the house still feels empty.  _

_ “Shiro, stop moping,” Allura waves her ice cream in front of his face, her pretty blue eyes narrowed, “Keith’s having the time of his life in college and you and I are here with a fussy baby. Stop worrying about him and start worrying about us.” _

_ “I’m just… he hasn’t called me!” Shiro sighs, exasperated, “He said he was going to call me at least once a week and it’s been a week and  a half ‘Lura, what if something happened to him?” _

_ “Like what? He got arrested again?” Adam drawls from where he’s picking up toys in the living room. _

_ “Hey, it’s been like three years since he added anything to his record,” Shiro grumbles and Adam laughs.  _

_ “I know, I was the one who had to pick him up from the police station, that poor lady’s car-” _

_ “She deserved it.” _

_ “Fuck, I know,” Adam says, sounding entirely satisfied, “It was glorious.” _

_ “I’m just worried about him, you know?” Shiro bites his lip, reaching forward to fluff Eliza’s hair when she reaches across her high chair to throw a piece of Cheerio at Adam.  _

_ “Yeah,” Adam agrees, but then says, “Look, that kid has been through the G.A.L.R.A., being a mutant, terrible foster homes and your cooking. College is no sweat.” _

_ At the time, it calms Shiro down, but nearly a year later, when Keith passes out on their doorstep, Shiro wants to make his husband eat those words.  _

_ - _

_ He falls to his knees in the middle of the crowd. Allura’s mother’s words pierce through his skull and pain erupts. He hears Keith ask him if he’s okay, but then he’s seeing something else, something that isn’t the pavement he’d been staring at moments before.  _

_ He sees chaos and fire, a team of five members. He’s giving orders, directing them through missions. He’s in charge and then there’s darkness and blood and fire and he tells Keith from where he sits on a hospital bed, “I think you’re the one who should lead them now.” _

This time when he surfaces, Keith’s silent, watching him with wide gray blue eyes. Some of his hair falls across his nose, adding just a bit of darkness to his pensive expression. He’s sitting with both knees bent, an arm draped across them. He looks… twenty six. He looks healthy. He doesn’t look happy, he’s too worried for that, has too deep of shadows under his eyes, but he looks… like an adult. Like he can handle himself. Like maybe… he doesn’t need Shiro anymore. 

Something threatens, a memory of feeling a dart in his neck, of seeing one stab into Keith, of being dragged away as his brother howled in rage. A memory of hearing from someone at some point during his captivity that Red was the most wanted mutant in the world, that he’d killed hundreds. He knew, then, somehow, that Red was Keith, knew that what he’d feared had finally come true. Keith lost control and the rest of the world suffered for it. 

He pushes the memory aside, focuses on this Keith, on this version of his brother, because it’s the version he’d hoped for, pushed for, “When did you get so old?”

His voice sounds rough and he winces, wondering if he’d cried out for Adam at some point. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

“Since I’ve had to start rescuing you,” Keith says, raising an eyebrow, “It’s your fault  I’ve got gray hairs.” 

He groans as he stretches, unkinking some of his clenched muscles. Keith shifts back to give him room and bites his lip, “Is it over, you think?”

“Probably.”

“What’d you see?”

“Everything,” he says, trying to keep the sadness from his voice. He knows Keith can tell it’s there anyway, but he likes to make an effort, “What do you see?”

Keith blinks in surprise and straightens, glancing away from Shiro, “It’s usually stuff from when I was with the G.A.L.R.A. Or the financial tower.”

Keith has never been honest with him about it before, and now it’s Shiro’s turn to be surprised, “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Mine are… memories. Things that happened in my life, connected to whatever I'm seeing, hearing, smelling, you know? They’re less of flashbacks than just… thoughts that get mixed up, or things that I couldn’t remember before suddenly coming back to me,” he says, and Keith watches him curiously, “It’s like the G.A.L.R.A. tried to put who I was behind a wall, and cracks keep appearing. Every once in a while, the gap widens a bit too much.”

Keith’s only response to this is to unfold like a cat, wandering over to the cupboard for a glass, “You want some water?”

“Sure,” Shiro leans back against the dishwater, oddly glad that his brother doesn't push for more information because Shiro doesn't really understand it either, “I think… after that I may rest for a bit.”

Keith offers him a half smile as he fills the cup in the sink, “Good idea.”

“Later, though, we’re going to Greensten,” Shiro promises, “We’re going to do a full intelligence work up, and then we’re heading there as soon as it gets dark.”

Keith hands him the water with a disbelieving shake of his head, “Yes, sir.”


	26. Shiro: Reunion

He wakes to a dark room. It’s empty, like it usually is now a days, now that Charlotte and Eliza have gotten used to their own space. 

He has the beginning of a headache pressing against the backs of his eyes, but he ignores it, swinging his feet from the bed. He sits there for a moment, scrubbing his face with one hand, wondering how long he had slept and what woke him at last. 

The knock comes again, a soft rapping of knuckles against the wooden crates that make up the walls of his space. He stifles a groan and stands, trudging over to the curtain that hangs in his entryway. 

When he swings it aside, he isn’t surprised to see Keith, leaning against his wall with an overly casual posture. He’s dressed better than usual, in a long sleeve shirt that doesn’t look like its his and the pair of joggers Allura stole for him months ago that Shiro can’t remember him ever putting on. He smiles when he sees Shiro. “Hey, we’re about to start planning the trip to Greensten, but I’ve gotta chat with you first. You and Allura.”

“Ominous,” Shiro comments, and then turns away, “Lemme grab a shirt.”

When he’s presentable, he follows Keith down the hall into the rec room. Allura’s already sitting there, looking nervous, and Lance rests his back against the far wall, his arms crossed over his chest. 

_ Why does Lance need to be here?   _ the voice in the back of his mind whispers,  _ since when is Keith afraid to talk to his brother on his own? _

“Lance,” Shiro says instead, nodding his head in Lance’s direction. Lance nods back and Shiro takes a seat next to Allura. He asks her without a word if she knows what’s going on here, but she just shrugs, the elegantly draped sweatshirt she definitely took from his closet sliding a little bit further down her bare shoulders.  

Meanwhile, Keith begins to pace, his hands stuffed into his pockets. There’s silence for so long it starts to become awkward, but then Keith finally blurts, “I told Charlie I’m her father.”

Shiro’s heart squeezes in his chest and he slumps back into his seat, “Why?”

“She… I had to tell the doctors in order to get her help and she apparently overheard me… she knew already Shiro. She wasn’t surprised. I think she’s suspected for a while.” 

“Adam told her,” Shiro says with a sigh, knowing as soon as the words leave his mouth that it’s true, “I’m sure he probably explained everything to her when she was little. I doubt she remembers it well, but she knew that I wasn’t actually her dad.”

“You  _ are  _ her dad,” Keith insists, but there’s less venom in his tone than there used to be, less conviction, “You always will be, it’s just…”

Keith darts his eyes in Lance’s direction. Lance gives him a subtle thumbs up, but Shiro notices.  _ Why does Lance have any opinion on this matter? _

“I dunno, she knows now. I’m just not sure how we want to move forward with this.”

“Keith, sweetheart,” Allura says softly, her hands folded on one of her raised knees, “I appreciate you including me in this, but neither of these girls are my children. I love them, but this decision isn’t up to me.”

“Yes it is,” Keith shoots back, his tone brokering no argument, “They call you mom Allura, you very much have a say.”

Shiro’s stomach hurts. He’s known, always known, that Charlotte was Keith’s daughter, that someday he might want to raise her himself, but somehow he’d never actually pictured it happening, “Keith, what do you want?”

Keith hesitates, and Shiro knows. He knows what his brother wants, has known for a while. It hurts, much more than he thought it would. 

“You want to be her dad,” Shiro says bluntly, and Keith recoils. 

“No,” he says, taking a step back, his hands coming up into almost a defensive posture, “No, I don’t want… I just-I…” he makes a noise of frustration, “I just want to be there. More? I want to see if… I want to try to do it. To be there.”

Keith’s never been the most eloquent person, but Shiro gets it. He doesn’t want to push Shiro out, to take over the role of primary caregiver just yet, but he wants to start. Wants to see how it goes. 

_ He’s going to take your daughter away from you.  _

But Charlie isn’t his. He loves her like she is, but Keith loves her too. He’s been doing this for Keith, for his little brother, from the start. Doing what he had to for Keith’s daughter so that Keith could get his life together. He’s twenty six now, is part of a team, a family, and has a relationship  _ (if you could even call it that yet) _ actually going somewhere. It makes sense that Keith would want to add his biological daughter to the mix. 

God, it still hurts though. 

“What do you need from me?” Shiro hears himself ask, and feels his heart break. He didn’t know it was capable of splitting anymore than it already is, but sure enough. 

Keith’s look of relief soothes the ache just a little, “I’m not really sure.”

“What about like… weekly outings just you and Charlie?” Lance suggests. 

Rage bubbles in Shiro’s chest, as sudden and shocking as a lightning strike, “This doesn’t concern you Lance. Stay out of it.”

Lance’s mouth falls open, but he snaps it shut almost immediately, “You’re right Shiro, I’m sorry.”

“No he’s not, that’s not called for-” Keith retorts, his brow furrowed, but then he takes a deep breath, “Lance is here because he’s the one encouraging me to do this. I understand that he and I are a … new… thing, but I value his opinion and I wanted his support.”

_ Why does Keith need support for a conversation with his own brother? Support from a guy he’s known a few months? Does Keith actually want this or is he just being pushed by Lance?  _ No, he knows his brother, this is all Keith, but that doesn’t halt the frustration.

He swallows the anger at the sharp look from Allura. He’s not in the wrong here and knows he isn’t, but he also needs to go into this conversation level headed, “What if we try you on bedtime with Charlie for the next couple weeks? And yeah, the once a week thing. Maybe you can start with some punishments too? Like if she doesn’t listen to you, instead of letting me decide what do you, you do it.”

Keith mostly does these things anyway, with some regularity, but maybe making it official will help Keith’s mindset. Maybe it’ll be all Keith needs. Just to have that label. Maybe Shiro doesn’t have to give anything up. 

“That sounds good to me,” Keith agrees, “The others are waiting for us, so I’m sorry to rush this, but I wanted to tell you before we left on this mission.”

“Just in case we don’t come back,” Shiro says darkly, and Allura shakes her head. 

“We’re going to be fine,” she purses her lips, “Jesus Shiro, maybe you need another nap.”

 

Now:

They plan in the kitchen like they always do. 

Shiro hugs Charlie against his chest as she sits on his hip. She’s getting too big for this, but he can’t resist, not after she ran up to him shouting, “Good morning Papa!”

Eliza is sitting next to Allura, eating a peanut butter sandwich and for some reason that simple action has his marveling over how much he loves her. His daughter. She’s amazing, growing up so fast, eating a sandwich she made herself. Adam would be so  proud of her, of both of their girls. He can’t help but think that at least he’ll never lose her. He won’t lose Eliza.  _ He can’t lose Eliza.  _

“So this seems pretty straight forward,” Pidge says once they all have some coffee and Hunk sets out a tray of cookies, “We just gear up, head over there, and ask around.”

“Ask for what?” Lance pipes up. He’s standing next to Shiro, with Keith on his other side.

“People or things that are unusual? Out of place?” Hunk frowns, “Yeah that doesn’t sound like we’ll get anywhere with that.”

“Look, if it’s something we’re looking for, it should be pretty obvious, shouldn’t it?” Pidge snaps and then sighs, “Sorry I just… look, it’s probably my brother, right? So honestly I’m just planning to ask if anyone has seen Matthew or Samuel Holt.”

“What if this is a trap?” Keith asks from where he’s standing at the edge of the table, peering at the map Allura pulled up on her tablet screen. 

Lance leans closer, on hand resting on Keith’s shoulder and the other on the table. It’s the closest Shiro thinks he’s ever seen the two of them willingly stand. Or maybe he’s just starting to notice it more? “Yeah, there’s not a lot of room for us to be using our abilities. The houses seem like they’re pretty close together and the mountains keep us hedged in.” 

“That’s why we go in with gear,” Pidge says again, her brown eyes flashing, “We’re ready for this. Lotor tried to take Charlie from us. We can’t let him get his hands on anything else that we care about.”

“I agree,” Shiro says. Matt was his friend and he admired Sam, appreciated everything the Holts have done for him over the years. He’s going to help Pidge reunite with them if he can. 

“Then it sounds like there doesn’t need to be any more planning,” Keith mutters, still glaring down at the map in front of him. There’s a hint of frustration, of uncertainty in his tone, like he doesn’t like what they’re intending to do, but feels as if he has no other choice to follow. 

“When you’re the leader,” Shiro growls, and he amazes even himself with the defensiveness and ferocity of his tone, “You can make your own decisions about how to proceed. We’ll talk escape in the truck.”

 

Now:

The vehicle is silent. 

Allura drives, her hands tight on the wheel as she keeps them on the right track. Shiro’s in the front seat with her, glancing back to check on the rest of the team every once in a while. 

Keith meets him with narrowed eyes, his expression telling Shiro that he’s not impressed with the way his brother talked to him before they left. Lance is next to him, his twitching fingers and the uncertainty trickling into the bond whispering that he wants to hold Keith’s hand but isn’t sure how to make that happen. Hunk looks worried, his dark brown eyes directed toward the floor and Pidge practically vibrates with excitement as she watches the video of her brother’s escape over and over and over again. 

He hopes Matt is there. Needs Matt to be there. He can’t take any more loses. 

The community isn’t gated, but neither is it open. Rubble blocks the road, and they’re forced to get out of the car and travel the rest of the way by foot. 

“ _ Careful now,”  _  Coran’s voice echoes in his ear piece, “ _ The fact that this community has managed to stay alive on their own for so long means that they’ve got to be some dangerous people.” _

“Coran,” Shiro whispers, “ _ We’re  _ dangerous people.”

“ _ Fair assessment there.” _

They trudge toward the area where the homes look the most intact. There’s laundry hanging up to dry, flapping in the slight breeze, but no one’s around. At least, no one they can see. 

“Hello?” Pidge calls loudly. Her voice echoes off the crumbling buildings around them. There’s no reply. No sound, except gravel crunching under their feet, their own ragged breathing and that damn laundry. 

At least until Lance freezes and says, urgently, “Up and to the left.”

Shiro barely has time to catch the glint of metal that means a gun or a sword or something he should be afraid of before there’s a muted hiss and Lance is shoving him to the ground. They land, hard, and the breath is knocked from Shiro’s lungs. 

“We come in peace!” he hears Pidge scream and then Lance is ripped upward from where they’d fallen together in a tangle. A tall form blots out the sun for a moment and then he too, is being yanked to his feet and bonds are being tied around his wrists and he calls upon his power because  _ they walked into a trap they walked into a trap they- _

“I’m here to see Matthew Holt!” Pidge cries from somewhere behind him, and he spins, dislodging one captor. Pidge’s face is red, her eyes wide and desperate, “Please! I know he’s here, he has to be here, he’s my brother, I’m Pid- Katie Holt, I’m his little sister, please!”

The wind picks up and there’s the whoosh of fire as Keith probably preps for a fight but then Pidge turns to them, panic in voice, “No, guys, they’re part of the mutant groups, they’re refugees, don’t hurt them. They’ll… they might know my brother.”

“Pidge,” Shiro says, willing her to understand that they can’t just let themselves be taken captive, that they can interrogate one of the rebels once they’re free, but she sets her jaw.

“You have to trust me,” she says. 

He trusts her. Implicitly. So when the rebels move forward to tie his wrists again, he lets them this time. 

 

Now:

The house they’re dragged into is missing half the ceiling, lending a wonderful view of the second floor hall. The rest of the house is in similar disrepair, with broken windows and holes in the walls. Dust covers the floor and Shiro really hopes no one lives here. 

They’re thrown into a back room. Pidge demands to see her brother twice more before someone says, “Matthew Holt is dead, girl. Drop it.”

“No,” she snarls and the man rolls his eyes. 

“Your choice.”

“It is my choice!” Pidge launches herself forward and Shiro is pretty sure that the guy would be leaving with a bitten off ear if Hunk hadn’t stepped in her way, “And I’m choosing to put you on the top of my shit list!”

The man smartly takes his opportunity to duck out of the room, slamming the door behind him. There’s the sound of a bolt being slid into place, and Keith snorts next to him, his hands crossed over his chest in a manner that’s apparently supposed to make him appear relaxed. Shiro knows better. His little brother is a coiled spring ready to blast down the wooden door, bolt and all, the second anyone gives him the signal. 

Lance, on the other hand, takes one look at Keith and rolls his eyes, his calm less of a facade. He moves so that he’s blocking Keith’s vision of the door and all he gets is one surprised look from Keith darted his direction before Lance takes over. They must have had some kind of talk between them when he was asleep because they’re not acting like themselves and it’s weird. 

Pidge, however, is acting like herself, the raging ball of energy that she is, so he goes to where he might be the most helpful. Allura and Hunk are trying to talk her down with little success, so it doesn’t take much effort to worm his way into the conversation. 

“Pidge.”

“Fucking bitches! Trapping us in here-”

“Pidge.”

“-Matt  _ is  _ alive you piece of shit-”

“Pidge.”

“ _ What?” _

“You wanted us in here. You’re not doing a great job of convincing me that I made the right choice to trust you.” He says it levely, evenly, keeping an accusation out of his voice. 

She looks hurt anyway, though he can’t really figure out why. He hadn’t meant to call his trust in her into question, but he kind of… had, hadn’t he? 

“If Matt is here, he’ll know that it’s me,” she responds sullenly, sounding much younger than her 23 years, “All they’ll have to do is describe a feisty five foot two woman with light brown hair and glasses and my brother will want to come down here and look for himself. I’m sure he has safeguards in place to keep his identity safe, ones that we won’t get through unless he wants us to. I think if we act the vulnerable captives, and the guy guarding the door gives him our description, he might feel comfortable enough to come check us out himself.”

“Good plan,” Shiro says, more because he feels like Pidge needs to hear it than he really means it. This plan only works if Matt is here. Something he’s becoming less and less certain about the longer they’re in the cell. 

Enough time passes that he starts to get uncomfortable. He snaps once at Keith for throwing pebbles against one of the walls, and once at Allura for trying to comfort him. Keith gets it and immediately backs off, figuring Shiro’s just having some kind of a response to the room around him ( _ he’s not wrong, the walls are closing in and his skin feels itchy and he knows he can blast out of here as easily as he destroys a level one bot in the training room-) _ but Allura fixes him with a scathing look that he knows is going to bite him in the ass later. 

So when a legion of guards enters the room just as he’s beginning to pace, he’s ready for it. He wants a fight, wants something to distract him from the fact that he’s being held against his will once again. 

They’re all dressed in the same gear as the people who captured them out in the desert. Black pants tucked into black pre-G.A.L.R.A. combat boots. They’ve got on bullet proof vests, black of course, velcro’d in place and patched in spots. Long sleeve shirts of various colors finish up the look, along with… masks. They all wear thick hoods and something like a ski mask, with gas masks covering their mouths. They’re the small, G.A.L.R.A. issues devices that were first released when the fires began to be set, but they do an excellent job of distorting the faces beneath them. 

The person in front- Shiro can’t tell if it’s a man or a woman- reaches up toward their face mask and Shiro glanced backward, meaning to tell the others to be aware, alert, ready. It’s because he’s looking behind him that he sees Keith’s jaw drop in shock first. He hears Allura’s noise of surprise, feels Lance brush past him to stop Keith from rushing forward. He experiences all this first, and when he turns, he figures out why. 

When he reorients, when he takes in the scene in front of him, his brain shorts out. He can’t  _ breathe.  _ His heart doesn’t fit in his chest, his tongue feels swollen, his eyes too dry. He takes a step forward, and then his legs give out because this is impossible, unreal,  _ impossible- _

When he falls, someone catches him. Arms surround his shoulders, his chest, and he’s pressed into a rib cage that’s shaking with the same kind of energy that’s encased in his, that almost-sobbing-half-laughter-hysterical nonsense. 

“ _ Adam?” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a pretty short chapter, but Shiro's prespective will be coming back soon a little out of order! (In a good way) :)


	27. Lance: Faded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some pretty gnarly writers block with this chapter, so I'm sorry if it sounds awkard or choppy. It skips around a bit, so hopefully it's still alright! Let me know if you notice any errors etc. There's some formatting issues I think because of google docs, but I'll try to fix those at some point. Hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Also, this fic is well over 300 pages long in a word document. Hooo boy.  
> Thanks to crymeamountain for helping me with the Spanish translations!!

Ten Hours Ago:

He stared at the blank wall and wondered when he became an adult.

He knew he and Keith need to have a talk about what they are, and he didn't dread it. He knew Keith had a daughter, a daughter he was just starting to introduce himself to as her father and that was nothing scary.

It had been… god he lost track of the time, two days? since he and Keith finally stopped dancing around the subject of their mutual attraction. Was that right? Two days? They spent the night together, were attacked in the early morning, fell asleep for a while, Charlie was sick, they spent another night in the hospital. They’d come back here, Shiro was awake, they’d talked, Shiro needed a moment and now the sun was starting to peak up over the horizon and he was pretty sure his sleep schedule was never going to be right ever again.

He wavered between trying to get some rest and waiting up to see if Keith returned, only to have his question answered for him thirty seconds later by the Samurai himself. Keith shoved aside the curtain to Lance’s room, seemed to realize he was in the wrong space and then just kind of stopped.

“Didn’t mean to come here?” Lance guessed.

“Meant to go to bed,” Keith mumbled. He looked… miserable. Too tired for the conversation they needed to have but too tired to just leave either, “Is it really sunrise?”

“Little past that, yup,” Lance confirmed. Keith still didn't move. Just gave Lance a baleful look that the braid Charlie probably put in his hair did nothing to curb. Lance relented, patting the bed next to him, “I know we need to talk…”

“Yea,” Keith agreed, then yawned, shuffling forward until he fell face first on the bed.

“But I really think we should sleep a while first.”

“Yea.” Keith agreed, in a much more muffled voice this time. He was back to hogging Lance’s pillow.

And just like last time, Lance found he didn't really mind.

 

Six Hours Ago:

He woke to Keith’s hand up his shirt.

It took Keith an extraordinary amount of time to fall asleep, he’d noted. He had tried to stay up, to fight the darkness pulling him down, but Keith had won that battle easily. Waking him up seemed to be just as much of a process.

“Keith,” he said, trying not to laugh. The other man burrowed his face into Lance’s upper back and made a sleepy noise that had Lance’s heart doing the salsa, but Lance wasn’t deterred, “Propriety demands we have that talk before you go shoving your hands places they don’t belong.”

“Fuck propriety,” Keith grumbled, then slid his hand down Lance’s abdomen to his

waistband and _Jesus Christ it was too early for this,_ “Pretty sure my hand belonged there a few days ago.”

“Keith!” Lance squeaked, because this sleepy Keith was behaving very differently from

how he expected this to go after their little argument, “Seriously!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Keith grunted. He rolled over and then… _fell back asleep?_

Lance had to remind himself that Keith was used to this. He'd woken up next to other

dudes before, had relationships with them, been… _gay_ before. This wasn't all a little strange to him like it was to Lance, “Kogane. Get your ass up.”

Which was probably not the best phrase to use, because Keith just lifted his butt an inch off the mattress before flopping back down and muttering, “Let me sleeeeeeep.”

“We have shit to do! The others are already awake I’m sure and we need to talk to Shiro- fuck, we’ve got to talk to each other-”

“Shhh.”

“Did you just shush me?”

“No.”

“Bitch-” Lance decided offense was the best defense and yanked the pillow out from Keith’s head. Keith hardly flinched, giving a loud, mocking snore from where his face was smashed into the sheets.

Violence wouldn't work, Keith always beat him at hand to hand combat unless Lance pulled out some of his more sinister street tricks (and even most of those Keith knew) , so he decided to be different and push himself a little out of his comfort zone.

He slid back down onto the bed, traced a hand across Keith’s bare torso, _scars, there’s to many scars,_ and pressed a kiss to Keith’s slightly parted lips. Keith, for his part, didn't respond. Not at first.

But Lance kept kissing him. Trailed his mouth along Keith’s jaw, his neck, and pretty soon one of Keith’s arms was pulling Lance closer against him and their legs were tangling together. Lance had one last trick, one last thing he thought he remembered from a few nights ago, and so he twined his fingers in Keith’s hair and tugs, just a little.

Keith came alive under his touch, a low, soft sound escaping him as he cupped Lance’s jaw. He kissed Lance once, twice and then Lance pulled away and tapped his cheek, “Good morning. You awake enough to talk yet?”

Keith sighed and leaned on one elbow, his head drooping forward just a bit, “Should have known this was too good to be true.”

“Hey,” Lance closed the distance between them and placed a very loud and sloppy kiss onto Keith’s nose, “This is all yours buddy.”

“Is it?” Keith whispered, to Lance’s shock, “I’m not really… I don’t-”

Immediately realizing his error, Lance backtracked, “That’s not what I meant, honestly I was just, I don’t know, I was uh, I was-”

“It’s okay, I’m not like, upset-”

“Yeah yeah, fair fair, I mean it was kind of a weird thing to say-”

“Lance, that wasn’t weird, _I’m_ being weird-”

“You are weird,” Lance agreed.

“I… know,” Keith said, and his nose scrunched like it did when he was thinking something he didn’t like. It was subtle, and didn’t happen all the time, but there it was now. Lance wanted to make it go away, and now.

“There’s nothing wrong with that. Being weird. If you weren’t a little off, I’d be more concerned I think.”

“A little off?” One of Keith’s eyebrows lifted.

“Keith,” Lance sat back, so that his spine pressed against the wall, giving himself a little more space, “You have a tendency to burst into a flaming tower of rage at times. You’re a little off.”

The eyebrow stayed where it was, but Keith blew out a breath and nodded, “Guess that’s all it takes these days.”

“Guess so.”

Then, without further pleasantries exchanged, Keith said, “So what are we? What is this?”

He gestured to the space between them, and for some reason that makes Lance want to laugh, “I dunno. I like you.”

God, he’d just… said it. Threw it out there like it was nothing. It had been on his mind for the past few months now, spending time with Keith and people who knew him. It had been hard to tell at first, but his reaction to Keith being an ass solidified it. He had been angry, yeah, hurt too, but more than that, he’d wanted to make sure Keith was okay. He’d known, somehow, that Keith hadn’t really meant it, that it was coming from a place of fear and uncertainty.

He braced himself for that kind of response now, to be pushed away and rejected. He could take it, he knew he could, Lord knew it wouldn’t be the first time, but he might not give up this time, might-

“I like you too,” Keith said.

It was grudging and quiet and honestly kind of mumbled, but he’d said it. Keith was staring at him with  shuttered blue eyes, still lying across Lance’s bed. He looked…not angry, but guarded, one hand resting against his scalp to hold his head in place, and the other curled into a fist in front of his chest.

“So what does that mean?”

“Look, Lance, I’m… really bad at this stuff,” Keith suddenly pushed upright, his black hair falling down around his shoulders in a sudden smooth arc as he released it from between his fingers, “I lose people. A lot. So the thought of being with someone who’s in the same battle as me, fighting the same risks, going into the same missions… that’s terrifying.”

“My last girlfriend left me without saying goodbye,” Lance responded, his gaze never leaving Keith’s face, “And my entire family was murdered. I get the losing people thing.”

“We agree then, that this is a bad idea?”

“For two people who have lost more loved ones than we have still alive?” Lance snorted, “Yeah, this is a terrible idea.” It didn’t hurt. Not yet. He wondered why. Maybe because… well, maybe…

“... Do you wanna do it anyway?”Keith looked as surprised as Lance that he had spoken, but then Lance knew that if he hadn’t said it first, Lance would have a second later.

“Hell yeah.”

“No labels, no weird shit, just… us, being together and we see how that goes?” Keith suggested and Lance grinned.

“Just us, together, Lance and Keith, neck in neck-”

“If you don’t stop talking long enough for me to kiss you I swear to God-”

 

Now:

Things are chill. Nothing dramatically changes between him and Keith and he thinks that maybe things are starting to look up for him until he of course, is taken captive and shoved into a tiny cell. He’s understandably upset by this, but tries to keep his emotions tamped down as much as possible. Shiro’s already on edge, and he doesn’t want to add to that with his own anxiety.

The door opens, and he’s ready, slipping into the fighting stance that Shiro has drilled into them over and over and over. He’s prepared to fight for his life and the lives of those he cares about. God, he would die for them. Die for _Keith_. God, when did that happen?

A man takes off his hood and face mask to reveal a man with skin the pale gold of a summer sunset, dark brown hair and glasses. Lance moves to intercept without thinking. Shiro seems to be on the defensive, Lance doesn’t know this man, they’re in a _cell_ for fucks sake- all of it speaks to danger and violence and Lance wants to be next to Keith when it starts.

But then Shiro says, “Adam?” and everything slows.

Shiro falls to his knees and the two of them are hugging and they’re crying and Lance takes a step back, confused. The name sounds familiar, the sound of it from Shiro’s lips yanking at a memory in the back of his mind, but he can’t quite place it. Adam? How does he know this man?

Lance turns around to ask Keith, only to realize that something is wrong. Something is very wrong. Keith eyes are glassy and he’s got one hand pressed to his chest. He takes in a shuddering breath and Lance panics because this might be a heart attack, Keith isn’t that young anymore, _oh god he’s having a heart attack-_

“It’s Adam,” Keith croaks, without being asked. He seems to sense Lance’s questioning eyes on his face, “Shiro’s husband.”

Everything clicks into place at once.

“Oh fuck,” Lance mutters, turning to glance at Shiro and Adam, who still haven’t broken their embrace, “Oh shit, okay. This is. You guys have been looking for him for a long time, haven’t you?”

He knows the answer to that question.

“Yes,” Keith manages, and Lance steps in the way of his jerky move forward.

He knows the answer to that question, and he knows something else too.

“Keith,” he says softly, his hands cupping the man’s chin,  “I know you want to see him, but you’ve got to give them a second.”

He feels odd doing this, but his gut is telling him that it’s right, that it’s needed. He can hear someone crying behind him and he both hopes and fears that it’s Shiro.

Keith blinks rapidly, and Lance marvels at the fact that he’s able to do this, has been able to do this. Getting through to Keith has never been easy for anyone, Lance thinks, but he can do it. He hadn’t appreciated it before this moment, not really. It’s a beautiful thing, to be able to hold someone together with just the palms of your hands.

Keith draws in another quavering breath but he does as Lance asks, standing so still that Lance hopes he’s not doing that thing where he withdraws into himself for days. There’s the sound of footsteps behind him, and Lance ignores them at first, trusting Hunk or Pidge to take care of it if necessary.

He starts to pay attention though when a familiar male voice says, “Adam, is it them? Are we- _Katie?”_

Lance spins around at the sound of Pidge’s other name, just in time to see a man that looks almost identical to his teammate barrel forward and into Pidge’s arms. He picks her up, and she makes a noise that can only be described as a wail as she hugs him, her slender arms squeezing around his shoulders so tightly Lance wonders how Matt can even breathe.

It is Matt. That Lance is sure of. His chest aches and he’s _happy,_ he’s so fucking happy that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. How is this possible? They got Adam and Matt? Together?

The little demon in his soul wriggles to life despite his efforts to beat it back. He refuses to let it win. He’s not going to think about the fact that he will never be reunited with his own family because unlike Adam they aren’t missing, they’re _dead-_

He gives Keith a look, a look meant to convey a meaning he hasn’t really parcelled out himself and-

“Lance?” someone says behind him. He doesn’t turn around. He won’t do it, because he’s been tricked too many times, had too many sleepless nights where he heard her voice, where she followed him from room to room, saying his name, saying as she does, again,  “Lance!”

There’s a hand on his shoulder and he stares at it in horror because she’s never done that before. Everyone getting their family back must be taking its toll because he’s finally lost it, he’s officially gone off the deep end.

“Lance, why won’t you look at me?”

 _No, no, no, no-_ “You’re not real.”

“ _Hermanito,”_ she whispered, “ _Siempre te estuve buscando. Por supuesto que soy real_."

 

Shiro:

“Takashi,” Adam says, and then he’s clutching Shiro against him, his strong, thin arms less thin and more muscle now. He’s different, that much Shiro can tell just by looking at him, but he doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter to him because this is Adam, the man he never stopped loving, never stopped looking for and now he’s finally found him.

Adam tugs him upward and he pushes himself to his feet, straightening to his full height from which he can stare into those wonderful brown eyes. He barely gets a glimpse of them because Adam’s immediately kissing him, his arms around Shiro’s shoulders and his lips are just as soft as the day Shiro thought his husband had died. Adam tastes like salt and protein powder and it might be the best thing Shiro’s ever experienced. There’s a strangled sound and then someone else is ripping off their helmet and Pidge is making noise. It should concern Shiro but nothing’s concerning when Adam’s around.

Adam holds Shiro’s head between his hands, his thumb rubbing circles along Shiro’s cheekbones. He’s crying, thick tears rolling alongside a nose that’s been broken since the last time Shiro saw him. There’s scars too, masses of burn tissue that creep up the side of his neck and marr the bottom of his jaw. Shiro swallows.

“I’d hoped it was you,” Adam whispers, like they’re the only two in the room, “I’d-”

His words cut off and he gazes at Shiro like his husband is the sun itself. Shiro’s gripping Adam’s waist without knowing how his fingers got there but it’s the only thing keeping him steady, a lifeline in the darkness, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“I know,” Adam sighs, “I know and I’ll explain why I couldn’t get to you sooner later, once we get cleaned up. We’ve got a compound here, a whole set up where people can live in safety. Matt’s here, and Veronica too.”

“Matt?” Shiro says and his voice sounds very far away, “Holt?”

“Shiro!” a familiar voice exclaims and then Adam’s stepping aside, letting a shorter man take his place. There’s a brief embrace and then Matt’s staring up at him in wonder, “I never thought I’d see you again. I thought… I thought they’d killed you after you protected me in the gladiator ring.”

_He roared, holding the crowbar like a baseball bat as he slams it against Matt’s knee cap. The younger man collapses with a howl of disbelief, his hands clutching at the rapid swelling._

_“I_ said,” _he growled, his teeth grinding together, “I want blood!”_

He staggers backward, and Matt looks at him strangely, “You alright there-”

“Fine,” Shiro rasps, and he is fine. Adam’s arms are back around him and he says, “We’ll catch up Matt, I think your sister wants your attention.”

It’s true. Pidge is practically vibrating through the floor she’s so excited. Shiro knows exactly how that feels.

“I missed you,” Adam breathes into the space just below his ear. Shiro moves to kiss him again, to show how much he missed Adam too when there’s a flurry of movement just over Adam’s shoulder. A girl takes off her helmet, a girl who is achingly familiar despite Shiro’s conviction that he’s never met this woman in his life.

She seems to know Lance. How is it that they’re all being reunited with the ones they love? This has to be a trick, has to be a lie, there’s no possible way-

“You’re spiraling,” Adam whispers, tapping him on the forehead, “Stop it Takashi. We were all taken captive by the G.A.L.R.A., being held as potential ransom candidates. We escaped together, made it here. We’ve had to hide out, keep ourselves on lockdown. Most of us here aren’t powerful enough to protect ourselves if the G.A.L.R.A. found us, so we’ve been careful, so careful. We couldn’t risk jeopardizing your work.”

“I’m just glad you’re safe,” Shiro tells him and it’s the truth. All that matters is that they’re together now.

“How’re the girls?” Adam asks, fear in his voice, like he expects to be told terrible news.

“They’re fine,” Shiro murmurs, “They miss you.”

He doesn’t want to tell Adam about Charlie and Keith. Not yet. He doesn’t want to break his husbands heart so soon after they’ve been reunited.

“Keith looks like he wants to get in on this,” Adam comments, “Funny, he never wanted hugs before I disappeared. And Allura. Oh god, you’re all here!”

A stab of jealousy spikes through him. He just found Adam and now he was going to have to give him up? Hadn’t Keith taken enough from him? First his daughter and then his husband? No. Not happening.

A small part of his mind, the very very back portion, tiny and quiet and ignored, screams that something is wrong, that he’s being absurd. Shiro pulls Adam against him anyway, refusing to let go just yet.

“Alright, alright,” Adam sighs, his arms around Shiro’s shoulders, “I love you too.”

 

Lance:

She has him wrapped into a tight embrace that he can’t escape from, doesn’t want to escape from. He can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t do anything except let his older sister, the woman who should by all logic be _dead_ clutch at his chest.

He closes his eyes. Opens them. She’s still there.

He falls. Veronica falls with him, cushioning the landing best she can, holding him, holding him _, holding him._

She’s alive. She’s real. She’s alive, she’s alive, she’s alive, she’s alive, she’s-

His mind shorts out for a second, and when he comes to, he’s clinging to her, crying into her shoulder. She rubs his back, but she’s crying too, and fucking hell there’s so many people crying in this one cell that it should be illegal.

“ _Pensé que habías muerto_ ,” he says, his words barely decipherable. **_I thought you were dead._ **

“ _No, no, teníamos que mantenernos escondidos_ _.”_ **_No, no, we had to stay in hiding._ **

She’s alive, she’s alive, she’s alive _she’s alive she’s alive she’s alive_

“Did anyone else make it out of the fire?” he asks, once his brain cells return. She freezes, stiffening suddenly in his arms and he bites back a sob, “ _Está bien, está bien, podemos hablar de esto después.”_ **_It’s okay, it’s okay, we can talk about this later._ **

“ _Quien es ese hombre?”_ Veronica asks. She’s desperately trying to change the subject, and Lance lets her, turning to see who she’s referring to. **_Who is that man?_ **

It’s Keith, of course, watching all these reunions with no small amount of confusion and conflict in his blue eyes. He stands a bit back, his arms crossed, gaze flitting between Shiro, Adam, Lance and his sister.

“Keith,” Lance answers, and the man in question startles at the sound of his name, attention yanked back toward Lance, “He’s my… uh… it’s complicated? Sort of.”

“Keith?” Veronica repeats, “This isn’t the same Keith Kogane-”

“ _Si,”_ Lance says, sounding like he’s being strangled, like there’s no air left in his lungs because there isn’t any, “ _Es una conversación para despues,_ V.” **_It’s a conversation for later._ **

She’s alive, she’s alive, _she’s alive!_

 

Now:

They sit across from each other in what Lance thinks is Adam’s office, smushed in around a table meant to sit a group half their size. No one seems to mind. Lance is next to Veronica, who’s next to Hunk. Pidge is next to Lance’s best friend, then Matt. Adam leans against a wall on the outskirts, behind Shiro, who’s at the head of the table. Keith’s next to Adam, perched the edge of a desk, his soup bowl clutched in his hands, forgotten. Allura sits on Shiro’s other side, her eyes glistening a bit as she watches Adam and Keith talk, her fingers laced together on the table in front of her. She’s pressed right up against Lance’s side, but he doesn’t mind.

Shiro finally breaks through the happiness buzzing in Lance’s brain, “Now that we’ve had a chance to process this, I think we should talk about what happened, how this is possible.”

Adam nods, pushing off from the wall. Allura tracks him with her shining gaze, as if he’ll disappear if she looks away. She too, had been removed from the entire reunion scene back in the cell. Lance hadn’t noticed her, hovering in the background even further behind Keith, at least until she’d finally thrown herself forward and Adam had caught her.

Keith, too, had gotten his moment, finally. It wasn’t until they were in line for their food in the bustling cafeteria, but it had happened. Adam was giving them the low down of their sanctuary, explaining the food process and how they managed to keep things fair. Lance was figuring out relatively quickly that Adam was a nervous talker, but once he’d stopped and moved toward the back of the line, he’d pulled Keith into a one armed hug that the black haired man hadn’t been ready for. Adam had murmured something Lance couldn’t make out and Keith had smiled. It was only a half smile, that was true, but it was genuine, real, unburdened and Lance was glad he got to witness it.

“As you know, almost four years ago, the G.A.L.R.A. set fire to the mutant communities that they’d constructed, initiating the all out war between humans and mutants. I was supposed to meet with Shiro for our date night when it happened, but I had to talk to one of the council members about the leaking fire hydrant in front of our house first.”

_His house in flames, ash on his hands, soot coating his hair, his lungs. He wants to run back inside, but they’re lost, they’re all lost. He steps into the fire, feeling it lick against his skin but it doesn’t hurt him, not like it did his family, the only people who had ever given a fuck about him-_

He startles back to awareness, realizing with a jolt that that the last images, the last things he’d seen, weren’t his memories. He glances over toward Keith, who’s staring at him with the same confusion. Someone clears their throat. It’s quiet. Too quiet.

Pidge’s mouth is open slightly and she straightens her glasses, ignoring Matt’s pointed look. Hunk’s radiating concern, but doesn’t speak, his dark brown eyes darting to each of his team members in turn. Shiro’s half turned toward Keith in his seat, but halted there for some reason. Allura seems to have drawn inward, her expression carefully blank and removed.

It’s only then that he notices the bond is blown wide open and he probably just projected all of that into it. And that the thoughts he’d seen at the tail end were Keith’s, also blasted through the bond.

Blue, smaller now than her usual size, closer to a house cat than a lion, twines through his legs. He pulls on her strength, sending a sort of apology to the rest of the team.

“Are you guys okay?” Adam asks softly, “What just happened?”

“We’re fine,” he and Keith say in unison, and Adam’s eyebrows rise toward his hairline.

“Keep going,” Keith urges and Lance nods rapidly.

“Uhm,” Adam clears his throat, “Okay. Well uh, I was headed to the community center when it exploded. I wasn’t inside, luckily, but I was still badly injured. A G.A.L.R.A. faction found me, took me in and healed me. They were saving me for something, though I’m still not sure what. I’m assuming some kind of leverage, but they never took the time to tell me. I was there, their prisoner, for almost two years.”

Lance expects to get some kind of feedback, something from Shiro, but there’s nothing. Just an emptiness that’s slightly disconcerting.

“I met Veronica there, during my last few months in the facility. They had us for similar purposes, I’m assuming. One night, when we were being kept in the same cell, the door opened, and we managed to escape. We found Matt along the way, while we ran, and he explained to us that his dad had orchestrated the whole thing, had set up an elaborate distraction scheme so that some of the prisoners could escape. We ended up here, in this sanctuary city. At first, they didn’t want to take us in, but we proved our worth. I’m on the council here now, and Matt is head of security. Veronica runs communications. We knew we had to keep our escape and our location on lockdown so we destroyed any evidence we could find. We wanted to make it like we never existed because the three of us knew that if the G.A.L.R.A. located us, or used that information, they could hurt our families. A year ago, we heard about a group of six people with extraordinary powers, and I knew it had to be you, Shiro. It had to be. I couldn’t figure out how to get you here without alerting the G.A.L.R.A. but eventually Veronica, our resident genius, came up with a plan.”

It’s odd hearing his sister referred to like that. Not that he hadn’t known her as smart and capable and strong, but she’d always kind of been in the shadows before. She’s quite a bit older than him, old enough to have a family of her own and less involvement in his life. He regrets that now, not spending more time with her, and he’s pretty sure he always will.

“She started having Matt plan hints within Lotor’s viruses. We knew he used them to

attack various sanctuaries and that hopefully Pidge might pick up on them,” Adam continues, “But what was the most interesting discovery about this whole thing was Acxa.”

Keith stiffens. No one else seems to notice.

“She contacted us, told us that Lotor already knew where we were, and that it was only a matter of time before he came for us. She warned us that we couldn’t change our tactics in anyway otherwise we’d alert Lotor to the fact that we were on to him and he’d speed up his timeline,” Veronica spoke up now as she twisted her brown hair in a bun behind her head, almost elbowing Lance in the face, “She said she could get Voltron to us, but we had to be more careful. She’d found the addition to the virus and hidden it from Lotor, but she wasn’t sure she could do it again without blowing her cover.”

“We’ve been waiting for you guys to arrive, but we’ve had an influx of G.A.L.R.A. scouting troops in the area. We weren’t sure if it was really you or not, and it’s better to be safe. Sorry for putting you in a cell,” Adam says, sounding almost like he’s not actually sorry at all.

Shiro leans toward him, grabs him by the front of his shirt, pulls him down and plants a kiss square on his mouth, “Apology not accepted.”

“How did you make it out Veronica?” Lance shifts toward his sister, “I thought you were, I saw-”

For the first time in a long time, maybe ever, what he saw in that house comes flooding back, _the charred bodies of his sister, his brother, his mother._ He keeps his hold on the bond tight, refusing to make the others see this.

  “Oh Lance,” Veronica whispers, and he realizes that there’s a tear worming its way down one of his cheeks. She wipes it away with her thumb, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea that you were going to end up there. I would have shown myself if I’d known. The room I was in was the first one to go up. It exploded, actually, but I was using my power when it did. It blew me out the window, into the bushes we had in the back. I hid there until the smoke was thick enough for me to escape.”

“Luis and Mama and your-” his words die on his tongue when tears well up in her dark brown eyes. Her baby. He’d known that likely no one else made it out, but it still hurts, almost like he’s losing all of them all over again.

He doesn’t really want to do this in front of everyone, but then again he supposes it wouldn’t really be the first time. Veronica doesn’t seem to really mind all that much, clearly trusting Adam and Matt with her life, both emotionally and physically.

“Alex and Jonah were in the room with me when it went up,” she whispers. Jonah was her husband, Alex her son. Lance actively fights remembering. He doesn’t want to. Can’t-

Something moves next to him, someone sitting down. It’s Keith, shoving Allura over a bit. She doesn’t fight it, sharing her chair with him as Keith casually places an elbow on the table, his head resting on his hand. He doesn’t look at Lance, at anyone really, but after a second, Lance feels Keith’s fingers brush against his, and then clasp them, squeezing gently.

“The G.A.L.R.A. were shooting people in the streets if they tried to run and I think Mama and Papi were trying to get Marco and it just… the stairs went up too quickly and the windows never opened well and… and…” Veronica sucks in a deep breath.

“Thank you for telling us Veronica,” Shiro says softly, his gray eyes full of sorrow, “I’m glad you made it out.”

Veronica stays silent. Keith rubs his thumb along the back of Lance’s hand and Lance wants to kiss him, right there. He wants to lean over and run his fingers through that stupidly long hair and forget that this conversation ever happened.

“So what’s the plan now that we’re reunited?” Keith speaks up, and everyone turns to stare at him.

“Can’t we just be happy we found each other?” Pidge almost whines and Lance agrees with her. They’ve gotten family back, shouldn’t they be allowed to enjoy some relaxation and catching up time? He has so much he needed to tell his sister!

“That’d be great,” Keith agrees, “But we just established Lotor’s coming. Here. Is your sanctuary prepared for the kind of chaos he brings?”

Adam frowns, his arms crossed over his chest, “We’ve started preparations.”

“Not good enough,” Keith answers grimly, “We have to be ready.”

Allura nods speaking for the first time since they’d gotten taken captive. Her eyes still have a bit of that haunted look, a bit of that broken detachment that makes Lance worry about her, “He’s said he just wants to talk, but I have no trust that he’ll keep his word. If he knows your here and finds out we are as well, we may have a full scale invasion on our hands. He’s more devious than his father, more hateful, and if he isn’t stopped, I have no idea what he might be capable of.”

 

Now:

They come up with a semi-plausible plan to strengthen defenses. Voltron obviously will stay on site, continue training and Adam intends to have others join them as well, learning to defend the humans that had little to no fighting experience. These sessions would be open to everyone, not just mutants, and Lance hopes against hope that it’ll be enough. They’d come up with the plan and then snuck in a couple hours in smaller groups, just talking amongst themselves, trying not to waste a moment. They don’t know how much time they have, if any. But Lance doesn’t want to think about that.

Instead, he watches Adam’s face as they get the comms working again, the excitement and conflict there. He hasn’t seen his daughters in three years. Lance isn’t even sure Charlie remembers him all that well, and he knows that it’s going to hurt Shiro just as much as Adam if she doesn’t.

Coran answers the call. He seems distracted, a loud crackling noise coming from his end, “ _Girls, stop throwing the blocks at each other!”_

“ _Whyyyyy_ !” Charlie yells from somewhere in the background, “ _I’m_ winning _Uncle Coran!_ ”

Lance glances toward the back of the room where Keith stands with his arms crossed. He raises one eyebrow, sending what he hopes is the clear message of _she’s_ soooo _your daughter._

One side of Keith’s mouth quirks up and he shakes his head. Shiro ignores the two of them, waving to Coran to get his attention again, “Coran? Hey. We have some good news.”

“Thank god,” Coran says, “I got worried when the comms cut out for a bit. What’s happened?”

“We found Adam, Matt and Lance’s sister Veronica,” Shiro answers without preamble, and there’s a long silence. “Coran, are you still there?”

“Adam?” Coran echoes faintly, “Veronica? They’re supposed to be dead.”

“I’m not dead Coran,” Adam speaks up and there’s a loud thud. Shiro and Adam wince at the feedback, but then Coran’s voice comes through clearly again.

“Sorry, I dropped the dohickey! Adam! You’re alive, I can’t… this is wonderful! Amazing! Girls?”

“Wait, Coran,” Shiro interrupts, “Don’t tell them yet.”

“It may be a little too confusing just to hear me over the comms,” Adam follows up, “We wanted to see if you could bring the girls here first and we could tell them then.”

Keith’s brow furrows and he steps forward. Allura too, looks a bit concerned. “You’re bringing the girls here? From Arus?”

“Did you not talk to them about this?” Adam asks Shiro, glancing between his husband and his brother in law.

“No,” Keith frowns, “He didn’t. It’s dangerous to bring them here across that open ground Shiro.”

“We’re having them come through one of Allura’s portals,” Shiro responds, his teeth clenched.

“You could have asked me,” Allura grumbles and Shiro’s face starts to turn red.

“I’m asking you right now! Look, we, Adam and I, Charlie and Liza’s parents, decided we’re going to bring the girls to us. I was going to run the plan by you two later and see what you thought was the best course of action, but they _are_ coming here.”

“I’m Charlie’s father,” Keith says stubbornly, “And I know we’re getting used to that and it’s going to take some figuring out now that Adam’s here, but I do get a say in this Shiro.”

“Do you?” Shiro asks, and his voice is cold.It sounds nothing like him. Lance doesn’t like this, doesn’t like where this is going. He instinctively takes a step back, uncomfortable, “You didn’t want a say for the first six years of her life. You weren’t the one who changed her diapers or took care of her when she was sick or disciplined her or held her when she cried. You're not the one she called papa. You’re _Uncle_ Keith, and you know? Sometimes you don’t even deserve that much.”

Keith blinks rapidly, his blue eyes wide, shoulders hunched like each word is a punch in the gut. He looks like he wants to run, wants to spin on his heel and take off for safety but he doesn’t. He just stands there, looking hurt and Lance wants to turn back time, to stop Shiro from saying a word so that he never has to see that kind of look on Keith’s face again.

Adam’s shocked as well, one hand rising to catch Shiro on his chest, “Takashi!”

“No, Adam, you don’t know what’s been going on the past few weeks and I’m tired of it. I’m not losing my daughter.”

“Shiro, what the fuck? I’m not trying to take her from you-” Keith tries, but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Shiro lifts the comm back to his lips.

“Coran, we’ll be coming over through the astral plane to pick up the girls. See you in a few hours.” He doesn’t even wait for a response, hanging up the call a split second before he tosses the comm onto the counter top and storms out of the room.

“What was that?” Adam asks slowly. Keith shrugs, slumping back against the wall. Allura’s the one who speaks, because Lance certainly isn’t going to be the one to do it.

“Charlie found out that Keith is her biological father,” she says gently. Adam’s face remains neutral.

“So? We all knew this was going to happen eventually.”

“Well, apparently Shiro’s upset about it,” Keith grunts. He keeps his gaze directed downward, his posture tense. “It’s understandable.”

Adam raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t argue.

 

Now:

Despite the apparent misgivings some members of their group had about bringing the girls over through the astral plane, it happens anyway. Shiro and Allura travel through to pick the last three members of their team up from Arus, along with some of their things. Keith and Lance volunteer to go with them, to help carry whatever people request, but Shiro ignores this. He doesn’t do it angrily, like before, but he still shuts Keith out and Lance can’t tell which one is worse.

Now they all stand in Adam’s office again, still in their gear, waiting. Adam’s trying to look casual, but he’s not succeeding, pacing in the back of the room with his arms down at his sides. Keith broods, not meeting anyone’s eyes. He becomes a little less standoffish when Lance approaches, but only marginally; he still gives off pretty strong ‘don’t touch me’ vibes, but Lance can handle that.

Pidge and Hunk stand with Matt, talking about some kind of cloaking device for their suits that uses the power of the lions, but it all goes well over Lance’s head. Veronica’s there too, but she looks like she isn’t sure why she’s being included, standing a little off from everyone else with a look of apprehension on her face. Lance wants to go to her, but he doesn’t know what to say. He hasn’t seen her in almost four years, four long ass years in which he became a different person entirely.

He hadn’t realized it, how weird it would be, until they’d moved into their small groups earlier. After the meeting, he and Veronica had chatted and she’d explained how she’d been in contact with Acxa, how she’d been on the run for about two weeks before she’d gotten captured by the G.A.L.R.A. She wouldn’t really talk about that time much, only explaining how she’d escaped, how she and Adam had been almost half dead by the time they stumbled on Matt in the woods. Matt had had all the supplies, had lead them to the sanctuary, had known what to do. From what Lance knew of Matt from his time in high school as Pidge’s friend, from the stories she’s told and her memories he’s seen, Lance can say it’s a pretty fair assessment to call Matthew Holt a certified badass.

She’d mentioned some of the projects she’d been working on since coming to the Castle, as people in the community liked to call themselves. Lance told her that Voltron knew them by another name, and she’d just struggled, explaining that it was a work in progress. He knew all about those.

She asked him what he’d been doing, and he realized that he didn’t even know where to

start. Or what he should tell her. Should he explain how he’d basically lost his mind after he’d found their family dead? That he’d almost lost his life under a bridge but was saved by a criminal who taught him to steal, taught him to be a terrible person? A criminal who then left him and stole everything they had? All the fighting he’d been in, the horrible things he’d seen?

Instead, he told her about Voltron. About the time Pidge fell asleep between the couch cushions in the movie room and no one realized she was there til Shiro sat down. About the time Hunk burned his cookies so badly that they used them for target practice and Hunk nearly cried every time he managed to spear one with an icicle. About the time Allura had yelled at Keith’s lion for nearly twenty minutes because he’d nipped at Rose and she hadn’t realized the rest of the room was absolutely in stitches over how ridiculous she sounded. About the time Shiro started a game of who could shoot the most G.A.L.R.A. drones out of the sky from their rooftop while drunk and then had fallen over the side, only to be caught by Pidge’s quick growth of the scant bushes below. About the time Coran’s moustache caught on fire from his stray kitchen experiments and they almost thought they would have to shave the thing off. And lastly, about the time that he met a boy named Keith who turned out to have the softest lips and the sweetest smile, who once tried to set him on fire and probably actually succeeded in a less literal kind of way.

And Veronica had listened and she’d laughed and she’d said all the right things but she

didn’t seem to get it. She didn’t seem to understand how broken he’d been, what an awful place he was in, a place he sometimes returned to, and how these six other people and two small children had mended him back together again, piece by piece.

The one gratifying thing was that she did get how it felt to have her back in his life. She’d thought he was dead for a while too, until the G.A.L.R.A. had advertised him as one of their most wanted. It was something, and he’d latched onto it for the rest of the time they’d spent together.

Now though, he’s tired. He wants to be the old him, her kid brother again, but the effort it takes to have even a minute amount of that facade in place has him wanting to retreat to the rooms that Adam showed them and sleep off the act for a few days.

First, he’ll wait for Shiro and Allura to return with the girls.

It takes another long few minutes, a period of time filled with Adam’s fidgeting, the

nerd squad’s quiet talking, Veronica’s glances, and Keith’s slow, even breathing. But the portal does appear, and they all explode into action, ready to provide backup if needed.

It’s not needed. Coran stumbles from the gap with Charlotte and Eliza on either arm, a massive backpack on his back and Shiro and Allura follow, both carrying large bags as well. They set them down and Allura closes the portal with the help of Rose, who roars into the opening as if to warn off any predators. The trio of adults pauses for a minute, panting, and the occupants of the room freeze as well.

Adam’s eyebrows are formed into a mountain, furrowed together but raised in the middle and God he looks so upset that Lance doesn’t know how to react. He stands, waiting for one of his daughters to notice him.

“Big!” Charlie says, offering a big wave to Keith, who only gives her a weak half smile in return that clearly confuses his daughter. Eliza, on the other hand, is locked onto Adam, tears beginning to pool in her dark eyes.

“Dad?” she whispers, “Dad!”

She doesn’t move, just swallows thickly and then sobs, her small hands coming up to cover her mouth. Adam rushes forward, suddenly freed by the sound of his daughter’s happiness and he wraps her in his arms. She buries her face against his neck and wails something that sounds like “Daaad!” over and over again.

Charlie seems thoroughly confused by this entire display, staring at her sister like she’s just grown another head. She turns to Shiro, then Keith, bewildered.

“Papa?” she asks, taking a step back toward Shiro, “What’s wrong with Liza?”

“She’s happy Lee,” Shiro says, crouching down to her level, “Do you remember Dad?”

“Yes,” she answers dutifully, but she was only three when Adam was presumed dead. How much does she really remember?

“We found Dad today. He’s alive and okay and Liza is just really happy to see him again. I think he would be really happy to see you too, but it’s your choice if you want to hug him.”

She pauses, thinking. She gives Keith a long look, a look that Keith returns neutrally. Lance understands why Keith’s being distant, but Lance kind of wants to smack him.

“Okay.” Charlie says in a small voice. She approaches Adam hesitantly, curling a strand of her black hair around her finger as she moves up to him. Adam pulls away from Eliza just a bit so that he can see Charlotte, Eliza’s arms still wrapped tightly around his neck.

“You got so big,” Adam chokes out, his cheeks wet, “You look just like your daddy, don’t you.”

Charlie suddenly smiles at that, a big grin that lights up her whole face. Keith stiffens next to Lance, and there’s pain in that action. Though Lance hates himself a little for it, a low rage begins to simmer at the thought of Shiro keeping the two of them from having the kind of relationship they deserved.

“Do you know who I am?” Adam asks softly. He doesn’t push Charlie, doesn’t ask her for anything beyond a yes or a no.

Charlie starts to shake her head to the negative, but then she peers closer, taking a step so that she can see beyond Adam’s glasses. She blinks, her blue eyes widening just a bit, “You’re dad.”

“Mhm,” Adam responds, and it doesn’t seem like he can get any other words out because he just kneels there and looks at her.

She doesn’t move at first, but then, hesitantly, she steps into his arms. Once there, that seems to trigger a memory more than anything else, and she takes in a quick breath, letting her cheek rest against Adam’s other shoulder.

Shiro picks up the bags, his eyes shining, “Adam, why don’t we get them to our room. We can talk in there for a while?”

They want some privacy. Makes sense. Lance can’t blame them.

“Hunk and Pidge, your stuff is in here,” Allura says, setting the bag down gently. Coran points to Lance and then his own bag. Lance requested only a few changes of clothing and the tablet Pidge had built for him, headphones attached. He didn’t really have many personal items, what with most things he’d owned before the past ten… eleven? Months having been stolen by his ex-girlfriend. “Coran has Lance and Keith’s things, so you two can grab that bag from him.”

Lance snags the smaller than expected duffle- Keith must have also requested just a few articles of clothing. He’s not surprised.

Shiro moves on the other side of him, passing directly in front of Keith. He has something in his hand, something he hands over to his brother. He mutters, “Didn’t want it to get bent.” and then he’s gone, out the door with Adam following close behind, the two girls clutching at his pant legs.

Everyone else files out, but Keith’s still sitting there, looking down whatever it is Shiro gave him. A piece of paper?

“What’d he give you?” Lance asks, and Keith shows him, flipping the picture around to reveal an image of a much younger Keith with a Shiro who looks relatively similar. Fewer stress wrinkles maybe, less scars. They’re standing with their backs to a lake, smiling wide with their arms around each other.

“This was the first year that I was in the garrison, right after I moved into Shiro’s house,” Keith says hollowly, “He took me on vacation for Christmas. It was just a weekend trip to a lake that his parents used to have a cottage at, and we slept in a tent the whole time, but I’d never been on vacation before and-” He cuts himself off, bites his lip and then, “It’s one of the few pictures that survived… everything. He printed it for me as a New Years present. Who even gives presents on New Years?”

Keith flips it around again, and there’s something written on the back, something in Shiro’s handwriting, something that makes Lance’s heart thud out of rhythm because it’s just so… good. Wholesome.

‘Remember, patience yield focus. I’ll never give up on you bud.’  

Now:

The wind whistles through his hair, and he lets out a whoop, amazed at the expanse of blue sky that soars above his head. There’s not a cloud in sight, just him and the ground disappearing not quite quickly enough under the wheels of his bike and he pours on the speed, zipping past the other cycle that had been no more than twenty feet in front of him, just a bit to the left.

Keith watches him go, a grin just barely visible through the open visor of his helmet. He really should have it closed, it’s dusty out there, but Lance isn’t going to complain about being able to see that lovely face of his.

Another couple minutes and they make it to the canyon. Lance comes to a slow stop, but Keith doesn’t quite put on the brakes fast enough, drifting into a sideways slide that almost sends him tumbling off the bike, or worse, over the edge.

 Instead, he stops just in time, executing a perfect maneuver that has him both upright and in the exact position he’d liked aimed for. Lance, who’d already jumped out of his seat, pushes his bike up behind Keith, a wry expression on his face.

“Show off.”

“Only for you.”

“Not impressed.” Lance says dryly, ripping off his helmet. He’s sure his hair is a mess and that he has dust caked all around… well, everything, but there’s not much he can do about it.

Keith doesn’t seem to mind besides. He takes off his own helmet, and _his_ long locks are definitely tangled and twisted but he swings his leg over his motorcycle and in one long stride, makes up the distance to Lance. He kisses him, a clash of lips and just a hint of tongue that tastes like sand and Keith’s vanilla chapstick.

“Mmmph,” Lance manages and Keith eases up, his stormy gray blue eyes sparking with bits of lightning that can only mean he’s happy, “Fine, now I’m impressed.”

“I missed you,” Keith sighs, and it’s so honest that it takes Lance’s breath away. He’s not really used to Keith telling him his feelings yet, to him no longer trying to hide how he feels about Lance. It’s only been a week since they’d had sex, and they hadn’t moved beyond mild make outs since then. There hadn’t been time.

Lance had thought this would annoy him, had thought, _worried,_ that what he felt for Keith was mainly physical, but it hadn’t. Sure, some nights he wanted to pull some of those noises from Keith’s throat again, wanted to see Keith come apart under his hands, but those nights he was also so exhausted from training and being chipper around Veronica and trying to ignore his misgivings about everything that was Shiro that he’d fall into his own bed and barely have time to miss the fact that Keith wasn’t in it with him before he was asleep.

And slowly, the thoughts that having a relationship was dangerous began to fade. He’d lost the parts of himself that had been empty and hollow somewhere along the way when he became a part of his team and he got a personality again, has emotions and feelings and _lets_ himself feel them. He doesn’t want to go back to that, that closed off, jaded place of self-hatred.

They’d had time off this afternoon, finally. Adam had mentioned that there were recently recovered motorcycles being stored in the garage, Hunk had offered to tunnel them out into the middle of the desert, somewhere they likely wouldn’t be spotted and they’d been out here ever since.

“I missed you too,” he says, shocked at how much he means it, “I wish we weren’t so… busy all the time.”

Keith nods. In the four days that they’d been at the Castle, they’d been in training all morning, and then teaching in the afternoons. Then there’d been talking with Veronica, revealing to her in careful bits and pieces what had happened to him. He wanted her to know and yet… he didn’t. Couldn’t. It was just… hard to put into words, and he wasn’t sure anyone who hadn’t been through something like he had would understand. He’s still coming to terms with what happened himself, that he doesn’t have to be defined by his past actions, and it seems hard to justify that to his sister when he’s in the process of justifying it to himself.

There were intelligence briefings and council meetings and Keith was spending a couple hours a night with Charlie at Adam’s insistence. Shiro had tried to protest against this, but Adam had simply smacked his ass, made a joke about it and silenced his husband with a few well placed kisses. Lance was really starting to admire the man.

Lance mostly tried to give them some privacy, but he never protested when he was roped into a game of ‘capture the princess’ (he was almost always the princess) or into a impromptu movie night projected onto one of Allura’s old dresses that Keith apparently did not have permission to borrow.

All in all, they didn’t have much time together, even if Lance had snuck into Keith’s room two out of the four nights. The other two, he’d attempted to do the same, but Keith had been wandering the halls, unable to rest. Lance had tried to stay up with him, but in the end he’d ended up back at his own room, alone. It hadn’t been bad, being alone, either. Not lonely. He used to crave company, used to need others to want him, but now he knows that Keith would have come to bed with him if he’d been able to sleep. He knows that despite how closed off Keith is at times and how strongly he’d insisted that he just wanted sex that first night, since then he’s told Lance things that it’s clear he’s told no one else and Lance isn’t going to take that for granted.

“I can’t believe we’ve been here for this long and Lotor hasn’t attacked yet,” Keith says and Lance has to agree.

“We’re actually getting a chance to kind of chill,” Lance muses. Which, should contradict with his previous statement, but it doesn’t. They’re busy, but a lot of it is the good kind of busy, being with friends and family. “You think Acxa will give us a heads up about when Lotor might attack?”

“I don’t know,” Keith answers slowly, “I honestly don’t. I have no idea what to expect from her. She took care of me when I was with the G.A.L.R.A. when we were little, and then when I found her again she fucking ruined my life and tried to kill me. Then she _died_ and I was… I didn’t know how to feel. Except she’s alive, and working for Lotor and tried to kill me again and kidnap my daughter. Only, then she saved me and Charlie and sent us here and gave intel to Veronica. I can’t figure her out Lance, and I don’t want to get my hopes up again.”

 _This,_ this is what he means by Keith telling him things. If there were anyone else here,

anyone except maybe Shiro, he’d never voice so much uncertainty. “Do you want her to be on our side?”

“Of course I want her on our side,” Keith sighs, frustrated. He runs his fingers through his hair, yanking at it when his pinkie catches on a snarl. Lance frowns, pulling Keith closer so that he can untangle Keith from his own mane, and then slowly, testing the waters, begins to comb through the mess with gentle patience.

Unexpectedly, Keith lets him. And it brings a kind of peace to Lance’s soul, quieting a hurricane he hadn’t known was raging.

They’re quiet. It’s just breathing and the wind kicking up a bit of sand against their bikes and Keith’s almost inaudible, “I want her on our side. It just feels like it would be easier if she wasn’t. I know how I feel about her when she works for Lotor. It’s harder to sort out when she’s doing things for us.”

Lance voices something he’s been thinking about the past four days, “Not us, _you._ ”

Keith doesn’t respond, and Lance can’t see his face, but Lance barrels on anyway, “She’s doing this for you, I think. Everything she’s done up to this point has directly saved your life one way or another.”

“Except when she tried to kill me,” Keith snorts and Lance shrugs.

“She didn’t though, did she? And she was trying to stop you from going after Lotor who

would _really_ have killed you.”

Keith mulls this over while Lance continues to work. He doesn’t speak until Lance is done, until Lance deftly twists Keith’s dark silky hair into a small braid. It’s just long enough now that it fits neatly into the hairstyle with minimal flyaways, and Lance admires his work as he gives Keith a small tap on the shoulder to let him know he’s finished.

“Has Shiro seemed a little less angry today or am I just imagining that?” Keith asks and Lance fumbles with the sudden topic change. Keith shifts so that he’s facing Lance, stepping back a bit so that he’s no longer standing between Lance’s legs. Lance takes a more comfortable position on the seat of his bike, resting his hands on his knees.

“Uh, I’m not sure what you mean?”

“He’s been pissed about Charlie and me, but I think Adam’s starting to wear him down about it. I dunno. I was hoping he’d talk to me about it, but everytime I try he avoids the subject. He’s been being so _weird,”_ Keith says, exasperated, “But I guess I should expect that. I mean Adam’s back and Matt and he’s kind of losing Charlie and I think he just doesn’t know how he feels.”

“Maybe,” Lance says neutrally, not wanting to reveal just how irritated he’d been with their team leader lately, “That’s probably true.”

Keith narrows his eyes, “Maybe?”

“I dunno, I just feel like he’s being a bit much, is all,” Lance says defensively and Keith’s thick eyebrows knit together in thought.

Lance has a sudden moment of worry, of panic that he’d overstepped his bounds, that he’d gone too far. This relationship is new, too new, but they were friends before, teammates, people who had each other’s backs. One night of sex wasn’t going to change that. Right? He could still have an opinion, one he was allowed to give Keith, not only as a friend but as his sort of lover or whatever… right?

“I… guess,” Keith says, in that tone of voice that tells Lance he agrees with Lance’s statement but is far too devoted to Shiro to put that feeling into words. He sighs, and then turns again, sitting on the small space left open on the bike seat between Lance’s thighs.

“I’m sure he’ll be alright in a few days,” Lance assures him, one hand snaking around to press against Keith’s chest. He can feel the beat of the other man’s heart through his shirt, can feel the shift of the pectoral muscle as Keith leans backward, “Give him some time.”

“Mmmm,” Keith sounds distracted and maneuvers sideways so that Lance is up by the handlebars and Keith toward the lunch pack strapped to the back of the seat. He slides his hand up Lances arm to his shoulder blade, pulling Lance down toward him, almost into his lap. He wraps him in his arms and kisses him again, this time slower, more exploratory than anything. When he shifts back slightly, he breathes, “What if I give you some time?”

Lance isn’t really sure what shenanigans they’re going to get up to in the middle of the desert with only an hour or two to get back to the Castle (god, they’d been riding for almost twice that), but he’s pretty sure he’s about to find out.

 

Now:

_He draws the knife across her skin and she cries, her thin fingers shaking on the arm chair with the pain, exhaustion, hunger, he isn’t really sure. He’s had her in here for two days, but she still hasn’t told him where the kid is._

_“Look, miss,” he heaves out a long exhale, staring at the ceiling. Anywhere but at her broken body, “He’s probably going to treat your son alright. He seems like an alright guy except for the fact that he hired me do to this shit. Just tell me where he is, I can let you go, and I won’t have to keep doing this.”_

_“I’m sure it’s such a struggle for you,” she snarls and he shakes his head at the floor,_

_refusing to rise to her bait. He’s tired. Wishes he was back with Nyma instead of in this shithole apartment._

_He finally looks over at her again, only it’s not the woman he was hired to torture. It’s Veronica, fat tears rolling down her cheeks as she struggles against the bonds, “Lance, let me go, Lance,_ please!”

He wakes with a gasp, his heart beating so quickly that he thinks he might actually be dying. It’s dark in his room and he’s alone and he’s at the Castle, not in that apartment or even the Hotel.

He’s with his team, with Voltron, and he doesn’t do that kind of shit anymore. Will never do that kind of shit again, because they’re making a difference, they’re changing things, and he’s not ever going back.

He rolls over, trying to force himself to immediately go back asleep, the way he sometimes can when he wakes in the middle of the night, but he can’t close his eyes. They stay stubbornly open, staring at the brick wall his bed is pushed against. He still feels like his heart is beating too fast and his throat is way too dry, but he can’t seem to make himself calm down.

The sheets rustle as he shifts a few times, trying a few different angles, and then, finally, he gives up. He doesn’t want to this, but he knows it might be the only way he gets any sleep tonight.

So he stumbles upright, stuffs his feet into his slippers, gets a sip of water from his bathroom sink and then wanders into the hall. He hopes Keith is in his room, is actually in his bed for once, but he doesn’t let himself get too attached to the idea. He doesn’t need this. He’ll be fine on his own, but it doesn’t hurt to just… check things out.

When he gets to the door, he knocks. There’s no response, so he thinks, maybe, that Keith’s not in there, that it’s another night of wandering for the other man, but then there’s shuffling and someone fumbles with the doorknob. The door opens haltingly to reveal a bleary eyed Keith in just his boxers, his hair stuck to his cheek in one spot and the imprint of what was probably his own hand on his chin.

“Oh my god, you were actually asleep,” Lance blurts and Keith kind of blinks in that slow, tired way people who aren’t actually awake do. He immediately feels terrible. Keith hasn’t been sleeping well since he got there (wouldn’t tell Lance why, but Lance knows both nights Lance ended up in his room previously he’d been up most of the time), and he’s disrupting the first time he’s probably getting any kind of quality rest, “Shit, just ignore me.”

“Lance,” Keith’s voice is hoarse and almost kind of slurred, “Comere.”

“Uh,” Lance isn’t _quite_ sure what the other man told him to do, but the intent becomes clear when Keith’s hand snags his and pulls him into the room. He drops it as soon as the door closes, but it’s only in favor of running his fingers up Lance’s arm, gently pushing on his chest until Lance’s knees hit the back of the bed and he falls into the comforter that is entirely too soft and smells like sand and smoke and Keith, “Are you sure this is okay?”

“Mmm.”

Lance can’t be sure if that’s an answer or just a noise Keith made on his inhale as he throws himself back onto the bed with zero caution for Lance’s wereabouts. One of his knees connects with Lance’s shin and Lance hisses out a laugh, “You’re such a clutz when you’re tired.”

“‘M tired,” Keith echoes and Lance nods in the darkness despite the fact that Keith couldn’t see him even if he was looking.

Regret is starting to trickle in. He’s not going to be able to sleep here either. Normally, Keith’s awake, more awake than he is, and can… he doesn’t know. But he does something, calms Lance with his presence or whatever cheesy shit. And Lance doesn’t want Keith to be awake now, he wants him to sleep, but he is regretting coming here and bothering him in the first place.

“Nightmare?” Keith suddenly asks, the word only half audible because of the pillow Keith has his face pressed into.

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna talk?” Keith flips to his back, inches closer. He waits to see if Lance is going to move away, and when he doesn’t, Keith presses a sloppy kiss to his jaw that makes Lance smile, “Don’t have to. But ‘m wake.”

“Are you?”

“Mmm… yep.”

“You sound asleep.”

“Nope,” Keith pops the ‘p’ sound in the word and Lance laughs, covering his mouth as soon as the sound leaves it, “Hey, no, don’t laugh, I mean, laugh but wanna talk about it?”

God he’s like half conscious, but he’s still trying, “Kind of.”

“K, go.”

“Keith I… it’s not a good dream.”

“That’s why it was a nightmare,” the mood shifts abruptly and Keith sounds much more awake all of a sudden, “Lance, you don’t have to talk about it unless you want.”

“I was back at the Hotel,” he says, and Keith stiffens, “And I was… I… Look, I never told you before, but I did some pretty bad stuff while I was there.”

“I figured,” Keith says softly and Lance sighs.

“And I was there, doing one of the bad things all over and then it was my sister I was-” his words choke off. He can’t.

“Your sister’s asleep three rooms down,” Keith soothes, reaching up to stroke his thumb along Lance’s jaw and it’s so… not like Keith that it almost startles Lance backward off the bed. He just barely manages to hold himself in place, to enjoy this, “You don’t have to do any of that anymore.”

“I know,” Lance murmurs, “But I have done it.”

“Doesn’t make you any less,” Keith whispers, “You’re not bad Lance.”

“How do you know?” he asks, voice thick.

“Because I’ve seen bad people,” Keith’s firm, his words leaving no room for negotiation, “I have fought _bad_ people and you’re not one of them.”

There’s something Keith’s not saying, something Lance can pick out in the silence of the space between letters, “You’re not bad either.”

“Neither of us is bad, how about that?” Keith runs his fingers down Lance’s neck, letting them drop to the sheets between them, “We’ve done bad things, but we don’t have to be bad. We can and are and will be good people.”

He sounds so sure of himself that Lance believes him. In that space of time, it’s just him and Keith and no one else in the world, just the two of them lying inches apart on a terrible mattress. He feels himself relax, tastes Keith on his lips as he leans forward and kisses him, a soft, fragile thing that Lance relishes more than he wants to admit out loud.

He wakes, the next morning, to the sun peaking through the one window in this room, a small thing framed in the bathroom. Keith snores lightly next to him, and Lance’s head rests on his arm, using it for a sort of pillow. They’d talked more before they’d fallen asleep, but Lance doesn’t remember much of it, the majority lost in a sleep induced haze. He’d matched his breathing to Keith’s slow even inhale, exhale, and he’d been out.

Someway, somehow, he’s going to find a way to thank this man.

 

Now:

They’ve been at the Castle for almost a week now and Lance is amazed at how much progress has been made. It’s progress in multiple dimensions actually.

They’ve set up some excellent cyber security, courtesy of Pidge, Hunk and Matt working together. Adam and Shiro have a solid perimeter guard set up and regular schedules for everyone who volunteered for the fight against Lotor. Allura and Coran have the civilians briefed and running evac drills, setting up shelters, escape routes, food stores. He and Keith are tasked with training the new recruits. Lance mostly gets the mutants with control issues, teaching them ways they can use their powers to assist in case Lotor rolls up with some kind of army. Keith’s got the normies that want to do what they can to protect their families, showing them how to use a knife, a staff, a gun, and once, a chair leg. Lance knows it was a drill in how to use whatever you could get your hands on as a weapon, but he still liked to tease Keith about it sometimes.

So the military/defense dimension is going well. The ‘whatever Keith is to him’ dimension is solid as well. He’d spent the entire period they’d been alloted for breakfast with his mouth on various parts of Keith’s body and he did not regret the fact that they’d had no time to eat.

And the last dimension, the family one, well that was pretty wonderful too.

“Veronica, I’m telling you, you’d like carrot cake if you tried Hunk’s.”

“Lies.” she sniffs and he grumbles under his breath something about ungrateful

sisters. She snaps a punch directly to the center of his bicep and he flinches back, sucking in a breath.

“I’m trying to _enlighten_ you, introduce you to the world of the wonderful and amazing food that Hunk creates and you cause me bodily harm.”

“Hmmm bodily harm. Really? That’s what you’re going with?”

“What’s wrong with what I said?” Lance asks in a huff, shoveling down the lunch that

Hunk had packed for him that morning.  He and Keith often didn’t have time to make it all the way to the mess hall between training bouts, so they’d taken to eating their food in a hurry along the sidelines. Sometimes, other members of the team joined them if they had time. Veronica had been here for the last two, and dinner as well, and Adam was talking to Keith today, wearing his typical brown jacket, comfortable looking jeans and work boots.

Their second class of the day is filing in, so he only half pays attention to what Veronica replies with, some scathing remark about him being a wimp or the like. Keith heads into the room, leaving Lance with Veronica and Adam, on the other side of the glass wall. The rooms they’re using are two old exercise rooms for whatever establishment had been there before, with massive glass walls separating them from the hallway. Keith’s on the right, Lance on the left, keeping the two groups apart so that the mutants don’t accidentally harm the humans.

“Ugh, I should head in,” Lance says, leaning back against the wall. He’s tired. He knows Keith has to be too, considering they both probably hadn’t gone to bed until one am, then Lance had woken Keith and they’d had to get up by six this morning for team training. It wasn’t a terrible amount of sleep, and possibly the most Keith had gotten in a night all this week (the man kept dodging the question when Lance asked him that morning), but Lance still felt the absence of rest keenly in the aftermath of his possibly too large meal.

He’s about to force himself to his feet when he hears someone shout from the room Keith had just entered. He glances over at Adam, but he too seems confused, head jerking up from where he’d been engrossed in his tablet.

There’s curtains hung in the room, partially covering the window in order to keep people from being self conscious, but there’s always a section open for safety’s sake. Lance stands and trots over to it now, his hands on his hips as he scans to see what the problem could be.

A man is in Keith’s face, berating him about something. For his part, Keith just leans back, looking utterly unperturbed. Lance can make out a few words, “Worthless… as bad as… should… mutant-”

Keith answers, but he’s calm, his tone low and measured, and Lance can’t hear him. Veronica comes up behind him, curiosity burning in her expression as she tries to see over his shoulder, “What’s going on?”

“Someone’s yelling at Keith.”

“Shouldn’t you go rescue your boo, like a knight in shining armor?” Veronica teases and Lance turns, rolling his eyes at her. Adam has his eyebrows raised, hand hovering over his tablet, asking without saying anything if he’s needed to stay.

“He can handle himself,” Lance says, in answer to both of their questions, but the shouting still continues. It’s louder now, and Lance winces, able to hear a bit better clearer.

“You don’t just… my daughter, she doesn’t even… fight! She’s going to get hurt or killed… ask me first?”

“Your daughter doesn’t need your permission to come to my class,” Keith says, and this time it’s almost aggressive but more authoritative and Lance kind of likes it, “She’s an adult, and can make her own choices.”

“You don’t get to decide that!” The man rages, “She is not your daughter! Do you have a daughter? Hmmm? What, no answer? I’m sure you don’t. Fucking hell, I hope you don’t. You mutants are all the same, you’re violent and think you’re better than everyone else and- wait.”

Lance’s stomach drops to his toes. _Keith can handle himself._

“Sir, this class is about to start. If you’re not going to join it, leave.”

“No, no, no, you’re that mutant from the T.V. a few years ago, the one that killed all those people. You blew up that financial tower. You _killed_ people, humans. Are you all going to be taught by a man who did that? You really feel safe with him?” The man turns to the rest of the class, gesturing wildly. Several of the students look uncomfortable, alarmed even, but none of them move.

“Sir,” Keith tries again, but he’s struggling to keep it together, Lance can tell by the strain in his voice. Lance makes a quick decision, steps past Veronica and opens the doors, says, “Everyone out of this room, now.”

A few people listen to him. Not enough, “There’s an emergency evacuation drill going on, I said _get out.”_

More move toward him, hurrying out into the hallway, but the man, the red faced, balding dad bod of a dude isn’t one of them Keith, too, doesn’t react to Lance’s words but he does respond to the man’s continued shout of, “You’re a monster. You should be locked up, kept in a fucking cage, you and your little friend across the way-”

_Boom._

Keith takes a pinwheeling step back, tries to protect the man the best he can as Keith’s body erupts but Lance is still pretty sure the guy isn’t going to have any eyebrows after this. Screams echo in the room and people scatter, frantically racing for the door. There’s only a few left, but they’re loud, their panicked cries echoing in his ears as they shove past him.

Adam appears at his side, concern pinching his features, “He still does this?”

“Not often,” Lance answers grimly, “Stay here, I’ll get him.”

“Lance, wait-”

But he’s already stepping into the room, letting the glass door swing shut behind him. He ignores the worried face of Adam and the frightened look Veronica shoots his way.

He moves toward Keith and something is… different than usual. Normally he kind of loses himself, becomes something not quite Keith. This time though, he has his hand pressed to his chest and he’s watching Lance with wariness instead of blank aggression.

Keith’s knees hit the mat and the fire gutters out. Lance thinks maybe Keith’s passed out, over exerted himself, done something, but no, he’s awake, shuddering on the floor like the room isn’t well over 90 degrees at the moment.

“Hey Samurai,” Lance whispers, kneeling next to the man who had held him while he’d tried to recover from a nightmare, trying to keep that image in his mind, _a gentle loving Keith_ instead of the terrifying flame monster.

Keith manages to push to a sitting position on his own, leaning his shoulders against the wall, and grunts, "I shouldn't have done that."

"You could control it?" Lance asks, curious and Keith slowly, grudgingly, shakes his head no, "Well, yeah you shouldn't have, but it happened. How're you doing?"

"I think I've got it," Keith rasps, sounding almost surprised, "I was trying, really, I was, but he just…"

Lance flops from his knees onto his ass, scooting closer to Keith until they're shoulder to shoulder, “He said some pretty shitty things.”

“True things,” Keith murmurs, pulling his knees up toward his chest. He looks like some kind of male model, lost in thought, advertising too tight work out shirts and joggers.

“Maybe they were once,” Lance agrees, “You hurt a lot of people. But you’ve saved a lot too, and almost died trying to be better. I’d say that doesn’t quite make you a monster. If it does, then hell, I’m a monster too.”

“Lance, you’re not...  I just nearly set that guy on fire,” Keith argues, “I proved his point.”

“He was in your face, threatening you. I mean, yes, you were a bit extreme, but I honestly might have frozen his dick off for saying something like that to me,” Lance answers truthfully. He isn’t a forgiving person. He isn’t a kind person. Not anymore. Honestly, Lance probably wants to freeze his dick off _more_ because the words were said to Keith, not to him.

Keith turns to look at him, his lips parted just a bit, his lashes too damn long to be fair, “I just wish…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. He doesn’t need to. Lance knows what he wishes that these episodes didn’t happen anymore- hell Lance wishes the same thing, “Can I help? In any way?”

“Lance you’ve helped so damn much,” Keith laughs and it’s sounds out of place in a conversation like this after a moment like they’d just had, “You’re the only reason I’m even at this point.”

“I mean,” he can’t deny that what Keith is saying is true, at least partially, but he’d wanted to help. Wants to continue to help, “But is there anything more I can do? We were making a lot of progress and then we just kinda… hit a plateau.”

“This… thing, that happens, it’s not like I just need to practice with my mutation,” Keith says softly, “It’s not really a thing that can be trained away.”

Lance has a thousand questions he wants to ask, but he keeps them to himself, waiting to see if Keith will volunteer the information on his own. Lance has learned over the past few months that if questioned, Keith will clam up. Once, Lance had asked him why and he’d mumbled something about feeling like he was being interrogated and Lance had immediately stopped pulling on that thread.

“When I was with the G.A.L.R.A.,” Keith starts, and Lance mentally braces himself. None of Keith’s good stories start with ‘when I was with the G.A.L.R.A.’ There’s not much Lance knows about that time, but what he has been told he kind of wants to forget, “I wasn’t exactly compliant.”

Lance gives Keith some pretty impressive side eye, and Keith actually kind of chuckles, “I know, surprising but uh, they ended up finding a mutant who had these parasites in her. She could inject them into people and they’d become more suggestible, more easily controlled, less rational.”

“They used her power on you,” Lance guesses and Keith nods, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows thickly.

“After a while, they discovered that the parasite had kind of… changed. Normally, after a while, your immune system fights them off like a virus or something, but I had so many of them in my body that they’d adapted. They weren’t being killed off, they were replicating and they weren’t affecting me in the same way that they had at first.”

Lance sees where this is going and he hates it. He hates the G.A.L.R.A. and everything they stand for. They were responsible for the fucked up messes both he and Keith had become, the fucked up messes his entire team had become, and it enraged him.

“When I was angry or frightened or threatened, they’d take over, turning me into that mindless _thing._ They latched onto my emotional state and turned that into all that there was. It was like an internal version of what it originally was. I was still more suggestible, more easily controlled, less rational, but the thoughts and suggestions controlling me were the last things I’d been thinking about before they swamp me. The suppressants, in part, were an effort to control that, to stop it from happening unless the G.A.L.R.A. wanted it to.”

“So you’re saying you have a parasite.” Lance deadpans and Keith shrugs.

“I guess. Not transmittable, don’t worry. It would die immediately in you, I think.”

“Good to know, good to know,” Lance can’t help the smile that threatens his lips. It’s not appropriate but god, he just loves it when Keith trusts him with information like this, when Keith feels comfortable enough, _safe_ enough to tell him, “So when you feel threatened, overwhelmed, maybe, those things take you over and you just kinda lose your mind? And that’s why your eyes turn yellow? It’s the parasite?”

“That’s the theory,” Keith sighs, “I can control it sometimes, I’ve been getting better at managing things but sometimes other… stuff gets in the way.”

“Other stuff?” Lance hesitates, then leans so that his head can rest on Keith’s shoulder. He’s still not used to doing things that Nyma would have given him shit for (if anyone was going to be allowed to rest their head on someone else's shoulder, it would be her and no one else), but he likes this. Keith’s hand finds its way under his and rests on his knee. Keith doesn’t answer, not until Lance pokes at him again with, “Keith, what other things?”

“Just like… seeing things?” Keith says, like he’s not certain, like he doesn’t want to tell Lance this.

“Seeing things,” Lance repeats.

“Yes.”

“Flashbacks.”

“Uhm… I guess?”

He gets why Keith doesn’t want to tell him. Lance has caused Keith to lose control more than once, and a hint of guilt trickles in. He didn’t know. How was he supposed to avoid it if he didn’t know?

And then he thinks about today, about the man in Keith’s face, yelling at him, saying those things and-

“Today, you just stood there and were… you were in the middle of a flashback and you just… _Keith.”_ It hurts him more than he thought it would, the thought that he had been standing there, had thought that everything was fine and it hadn’t been.

“I didn’t want to cause an issue.”

“ _Keith.”_ Lance says again, firmer this time, “Jesus christ dude, you’re allowed to leave a situation if  it’s causing you issues.”

“I’m okay-”

“ _Now!_ You’re okay _now.”_

“I’m sorry,” Keith says, not sounding sorry at all, sounding more like he just thinks these are the words Lance wants to hear and he’s too bewildered to know what else to say.

“Keith, no, just… promise me, in the future, you’ll excuse yourself alright? It’s not worth trying to be strong or whatever if this is gonna be the outcome.”

“I thought I had it.”

“ _Promise me._ ” He reaches upward to cup Keith’s face in his hands. The other man looks surprised, shocked, but then his eyes soften and he lifts his own fingers, brushing a bit of Lance’s hair away from his temple. It’s really fucking sweet and Lance thinks he can feel one of his molars rotting.

“I promise.”

 

Now:

Lance startles when a hand shoots out from the darkness, snagging his arm abruptly. He yelps and a voice hisses, “Shut the fuck up.”

He immediately makes his arm as cold as he possibly can manage and there’s a tiny scream from the person who held him. It’s the scream that alerts him to the fact that this is a friend, not foe, “Veronica?”

“Yes you dolt! Ow! Thank god you didn’t know how to do that as a kid. We need to talk.”

“Why didn’t you just ask me like a normal person-”

“Because this is about your boyfriend and I don’t want him to know we’re talking about him. He’s terrifying.”

“He’s not my-” Lance barely has time to try to interject before his sister yanks him into the storage closet. She slams the door shut and then turns on the light to reveal a set of bean bag chairs ready and waiting for them.

“Alright, spill,” she says, once she’d flopped into her seat, “I’ve been trying to ask about it in a roundabout way for the past week and you’ve been avoiding the question. I want answers.”

“About what?” he asks, letting himself be tugged down into the other spot, “Veronica, you’re being weird.”

“Lance, you’re being the weird one,” she snaps, exasperated, “You say all these cute things about Keith and he ends up in your room-”

“How do you know about that?” Lance interrupts, his eyes narrowing. The past three nights Keith had slept with him instead, an arrangement that works a bit better. Lance is more likely to be in his space than Keith is to be in his room, and it means Keith can enter at whatever time of night he’s finally tired enough to pass out.

Veronica barrels onward like she hadn’t heard him. “And then yesterday, after he’d done that thing where he just combusts or whatever, you calmed him down and Adam seemed super surprised about it. And yet, when I try to hint and see if there’s anything going on with you two, you basically ignore me! You used to hate the guy in high school and now when I see you two together after four years you’re all lovey dovey!”

“I’m bi,” he kind of blurts, because she doesn’t seem to know, doesn’t seem to understand and he’d rather talk about that than him and Keith. She gives him a sympathetic smile.

“Yes, sweetie, I know, but thank you for finally telling me,” Veronica reaches behind her chair and pulls out a bag of chips, opening it with the crisp crackle of plastic. She’s so casual about it that Lance kind of wants to yell because apparently he was the last person to know about his own sexuality, “You. Keith. Spill.”

“Look we just kind of… became close. Yeah I used to dislike him, but then I found out all his weirdness in high school was for a good reason and he’s been through a lot and he… tried to change. I dunno, I had a lot of issues with him when I first joined this team, but I told him about them, and he changed what he could, the stuff that he agreed was not so great about himself. And the other stuff, I learned to live with, I guess.”

“And…”

“And we... I dunno. I mean, have you seen the man?”

“Yes, Lance. That’s why I’m asking. If he’s not taken I’m swooping in for the kill.”

“V, he’s gay.”

“Well, shit,” she sighs, shoving a handful of chips into her mouth, “Okay, continue.”

“Once I realized he wasn’t the worst dude ever, I started to notice other things about him. Like that he’s… a really chill person and he tries like impossibly hard at everything he does, he’s so fucking stubborn. And he’s really considerate, he thinks about what others think about him all the time, though to be fair he really doesn’t actually give a shit about most people’s opinions.”

Veronica doesn’t say anything, just watches him with her dark eyes, unreadable behind the reflection of her glasses. He keeps going, because he thinks that’s what she’s looking for.

“And he’s really fucking hot, V, like hoo boy. Like, how could I be trapped in that tiny compound with him, day and night, and not want to hit that? Fuck. No. Obviously I wanted to.”

“So you wanted to, but did you actually do it?” Veronica asks, but there’s only honest caring in her tone. She’s not doing this because she wants to get the scoop or her own curiosity, she’s doing this because she genuinely gives a shit about his life. For the first time since he’d found her again, he doesn’t feel obligated to act a certain way, to try to force the banter or be someone he’s not.

“I… yeah… we kind of. Did stuff. And it was weird because I’d never… you know… with a guy and he was just. Really cool about it.” Lance kind of stumbles over his words, because this is an awkward topic to go over with his older sister, even if she did ask.

“So what’re you guys now?”

“We’re kind of… going the no labels route? At least right now. It’s like we’re dating only… kind of skipped everything that’s typical dating, I dunno.” Got it’s like he’s a blushing teenager. The amount of times he’s said ‘dunno’ has him cringing.

“Are you guys still… being intimate?” There’s something off about the way she asks this, like she’s trying to prove a point to herself. Lance hesitates then says, “Well, no. We’re a little busy right now if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Hunk was right,” Veronica nods, as if her thought process had been confirmed.

“Hunk was right about what?”

“This is totally not just sex and you guys are in looooveeee,” she croons and Lance squawks a protest.

“If you say that to him V, I swear to god. He carries a knife with him at all times, he will murder you in a fit of fury.”

“He will not. You just said he’s chill.”

“Have you even talked to him??”  
“Not… really but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“Keith hates talking to strangers.”

“Does he?” V muses, “I feel like that’s a lie.”

“Stay away from him! Stayyyy away, Veronica you little witch-”

 

Shiro:

“He’s becoming a problem, Adam,” Shiro sighs as he paces in the corner of his room, watching Eliza as she snores in the middle of his and Adam’s bed. She’d been having nightmares recently everytime he’d tried to put her in her own room with Charlie, and she’d been sleeping with them.

“This is your brother you’re talking about,” Adam calls from the bathroom, brushing his teeth from the sounds of it, “Not some random guy you can’t have a conversation with. Your brother.”

“I know it’s just… he hasn’t been listening to me lately.”

“Maybe because everytime you tell him to do something you’re giving him an order? He’s never responded well to those. Plus, he’s twenty six Shiro. Twenty seven? Whatever. He’s an adult.”

“Who’s side are you on, anyway?” Shiro grumbles, crossing his arms as he paces. This is a serious issues and Adam is treating it like he’s making a bigger deal out of things than he needs to. It had been amazingly easy to slip back into the roles he’d had with Adam before, but there were still adjustments that each of them had to make, room for new traumas and scars that hadn’t existed before their separation.

“Your side, Shiro. I just think you need to talk to Keith, is all.” Adam sounds tired of this conversation and it only serves to fuel the flames of Shiro’s anger that much higher.

“He’s taking our daughter away from us,” Shiro snaps, “Shouldn’t you be a little more upset about that?”

“He’s doing no such thing Shiro,” Adam sighs.

“He’s scaring the new recruits,” he immediately adds  and Adam grunts.

“Fair, but that was an accident and he already apologized to you. Four times. And you ignored him. All four times. Plus, didn’t you say that through this uh… magical bond thing, you’ve been able to tell that he’s been having a rough time with trauma stuff? Shiro, give the kid a break.”

“Because he never learns! And you can’t call him a kid after two seconds ago saying he was an adult.”

“I can do what I want, thank you.” Adam finally steps out of the bathroom in sweatpants and nothing else, his hair still damp from his shower. Shiro refuses to let Adam distract him with the ripple of his abdominal muscles, the shape of his biceps as he turns. There’s masses of scar tissue there, a patch all along his right side that Shiro knows transitions onto his back and then curls around to form the spots on his neck and chin. He also knows his husband is 100% doing this on purpose, and he refuses to rise to the bait. “He does learn, Takashi. It just takes him a long, long time. You know this. What’s gotten into you?”  

“He needs to grow up,” Shiro refuses to back down, “And Lance is encouraging him. Everyone else thinks it’s great that they’ve gotten together but it’s not _healthy_ Adam.”

He’s tired. So tired of keeping everyone on this team aloft and getting zero

appreciation for it. He doesn’t know how much longer he can take it and that scares him.

“You’re stressed,” Adam comments, peering at him from the bathroom dooray, “Come here.”

“I thought we were getting ready for bed,” Shiro asks, raising an eyebrow and Adam grins.

“We are. Come. Here.”

He can’t say no to Adam. Has never been able to say no to him. Shiro floats forward before he’d even thought about moving, folding into his husband’s embrace with so little effort he can’t understand why he doesn’t stay in Adam’s arms all the time.

“Are you okay?” Adam whispers into his ear, and Shiro shrugs. Honestly he doesn’t know anymore, “If you’re not, you know I’m always here for you, don’t you?”

“I…” and then it’s like something else takes possession of his mouth and words flow from his lips despite the fact that he hadn’t made the conscious choice to speak, “I don’t really feel like myself right now.”  
“I can see that,” Adam lifts Shiro’s head from his shoulder, keeping it level with his own, “What can I do?”

“Kiss me?” Shiro asks, and he sounds pathetic, small, weak, but Adam doesn’t seem to have the same thought process in the slightest because his dark eyes are smoldering. When his lips meet Shiro’s it’s like he’s trying to make up for missing the last four years and despite the lack of oxygen, Shiro feels like he can finally breathe again.

 

Lance, Now:

“Lance?” A quiet voice asks in the dead of night.

“Mmm?” Lance asks, mumbles, says. He’s awake. He swears.

“It’s Keith.”

“No shit,” Lance mutters and there’s a snickering laugh.

“Can I come in?”

“No.”

“Laaaanceeeeee,” Keith says, and it’s not a whine exactly, because Keith Kogane does not _whine,_ but he’s certainly close.

“No,” Lance tells his pillow.

“I can’t sleep.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

“What if I want snuggles.”

“If you wanted snuggles, I’d be taking you to the fucking med bay because that request has literally never come out of your mouth.”

“Well I… can’t say it cause it’s so damn cute coming from you but somehow creepy when I say it.”  
Lance is actually awake now, staring at his still closed door. The Castle, unlike Arus, has actually doors, and Lance is abusing that power to the fullest extent, “Did you just call me cute.”

“Mhmmmmm.”

“God.”

“Nope, just Keith.”

“I’m going to bed.”

In the two weeks since they’d arrived at the Castle, there’d only been two nights where they hadn’t sleep together, the two in the earliest days of their stay. And all they’d done was sleep. Keith seemed determined not to have sex again with Lance, and for the life of him Lance could not figure out why.

It was frustrating to say the least.

“Wish that were me,” Keith says wistfully and Lance chokes on a giggle.

“Wait, you wish you were going to bed or you wish you were the bed.”

“You’re smart, figure it out and _let me in.”_

“The door’s unlocked,” Lance reveals in a lofty tone that has Keith cursing softly to himself because of course the idiot never even checked, “Let yourself in.”

Keith does as he’s told, slides under Lance’s covers without any preamble and then wraps his warm arms around Lance’s body immediately, pressing three firm kisses along his neck. Lance slides his leg in between Keith’s and lets his fingers trace a path from Keith’s chest down his stomach, rubbing gentle circles into his hips. Keith shivers, but he doesn’t move closer, and in fact, pulls away slightly, heaving a relaxed sigh as he flops onto his back.

“Why,” Lance says finally, trying not to let his annoyance color his voice. Keith’s eyes are closed, the shadows under them deepened by his lashes. He stays in the same position he’d settled in as his lips move.

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“Why won’t you have sex with me,” Lance is blunt and to the point, refusing to feel awkward. He likes Keith ( _God,_ he likes him). Wants to be able to be honest with him, “I want to, I’m giving you clear hints that I want it and you’re very obviously telling me that you don’t. Which is fine, I just wanted to know if there was a reason or like you’re just not uh… feeling it or something I dunno. Obviously I’m not trying to pressure you into anything but… Jesus, Keith, stop staring at me and say something, I’m rambling now!”

Keith has just enough time to blink over at Lance in surprise before there’s a light knock on the door. Lance gives Keith a look of confusion before a small voice calls, “Big?”

Keith’s head flops back onto the pillow and he stares at the ceiling, clearly exhausted. But he says, “The door’s open, Little.”

“Now who’s cute,” Lance whispers. Keith smacks him on the chest with the back of his hand, straightening just in time for Charlie to wander into the room. Lance can’t see her well in the dark, but he can hear her sniffing. Keith must be able to too because he immediately goes on high alert.

“What’s wrong Charlie?”

“I had a nightmare,” she whimpers and Keith’s eyes close for a beat too long. When he opens them, he heaves himself over the side of the bed and onto the wooden floor, scooping his daughter up in one motion. She clings to his neck, staring at Lance with wide eyes as they approach.

“You gotta ask, not me,” Keith tells her and she wipes her nose with the back of her hand. It’s disgusting and yet it makes Lance want to hug her and stop her from crying.

In the smallest, sweetest, cutest fucking voice he’s ever heard, Charlie asks, “Uncle Lance can I stay here? I’m scared.”

“Sure, Leelee,” Lance holds out his arms for her and Keith transitions the six, almost seven year old to the other man. She’s heavy, but he manages to get her into position on the bed, snuggling her up where she’ll be able to lay on Keith’s chest if she wants. It wouldn’t be the first time Lance has seen them pulling that pose while taking naps and it won’t be the last, he’s positive.

Keith climbs back under the covers, giving Lance an apologetic look that he waves away with one hand, “How’d you know where your daddy would be, huh?” Lance asks Charlie, trying to keep her distracted from the thoughts of her nightmare.

“He’s always with you Uncle Lance,” she says truthfully, “He likes you a lot I think.”

Lance can’t be sure in the darkness, but he thinks Keith’s cheeks might be red. He can’t keep the hint of embarrassment out of his tone as he says abruptly, “Alright Charlie, time to sleep.”

She doesn’t say anything, just looks up at her father and Keith immediately relents, “Unless you want to talk about your dream?”

Charlie nods, and her lower lips quivers, her black hair fanned out on Lance’s pillow, “I dreamed that the bad man came and took me again and Mom wasn’t there and Papa was hurt and you didn’t wanna come save me.”

Keith recoils as if he’d been punched, “I’d always come save you.”

“But you didn’t wanna, you said I was a bad girl and-”

“Charlie,” Keith says, urgent and low and desperate almost, “I will always want you. You know that, right?”

“But you didn’t,” Charlie pouts and Lance’s heart breaks because he knows she’s not talking about the dream anymore, she’s talking about the first six years of her life and this is not a conversation that either her or Keith is ready to have.

“I did, Charlie, I...,” Keith sounds a wee bit hysterical and then he hugs her, his daughter and says, “Look, this is going to be really hard for you to understand right now, but your dad, your papa and your dad, they did a really good job taking care of you, right?”

“Yeah,” Charlie whimpers.

“I wouldn’t have done a good job. I wouldn’t have been a good papa.”

“You are now though,” Charlie’s voice is muffled a bit by the pillow and the embrace she’s in, but it’s still audible to Lance.

Keith’s speechless. He’s absolutely speechless, giving Lance the massive-eyes-I’m-panicking stare Lance has seen maybe once in since he joined the team and Lance swoops in to rescue him, “He needed time to practice by being your uncle first though.”

“Oh,” Charlie says, sounding a bit like she understands. That or she’s just really sleepy. “Oh.”

“I never meant to make you feel like I didn’t want you,” Keith whispers and she nods slowly, her eyes fluttering shut. It’s like all she needed was a bit of reassurance to sleep, and Lance figures that’s probably why she ended up at their door instead of her papa’s.  

“It’s okay Big,” she definitely sounds tired now, “I love you.”

“Love you too.” Keith rasps and she’s pretty much out after that, drifting off tightly secured in her father’s arms.

Once they’re sure she’s asleep, Lance reaches over and laces his fingers with Keith’s. The other man gives him a grateful smile, and then as if he’s talking around a lump in his throat, croaks, “She said I was… She uh. Lance, I…”

“You should believe her,” he whispers, “Even though I know you’re not going to. You’ve got to stop doubting yourself so much.”

Keith doesn’t answer, and Lance thinks that maybe he’s mulling this over, that he’s trying to up with a reply but a moment later there’s a the soft whistling snore of a definitely asleep Keith. Lance exhales slowly, watching Keith’s finger’s twitch from their position of _almost_ touching but not quite brushing Lance’s arm, and resigns himself to pushing this issue at a later date. He resigns himself to it, and instead, basks in the warm glow that this little interaction has left kindling in his chest.

Everything about tonight had been… domestic, and Lance… likes it. He likes it, and it’s new and he revels in it because he doesn’t know how long he’ll have it.

Domestic? Lance? Shit. Who would have guessed?

Certainly not him, that’s for sure.

 

Now:

They’d gotten Charlie back to Shiro and Adam’s room just before breakfast. She’d still been sleepy and half awake and so had they, but none of her things were in their room and they had to get ready for training with the team.

Before they headed down to the newly renovated room the team used to beat the shit out of each other and call it training, Lance needs to continue the conversation from the night before. There were multiple, but he knows which one he’s going to start with. He’s starting with it, because it’s had too long to stew and he’s starting to get just a bit more than frustrated and he doesn’t really enjoy that feeling.

“Don’t think I’m letting you off the hook just because your daughter interrupted us last

night,” Lance brings it up as soon as the door shuts behind them, “Why won’t you have sex with me?”

Keith turns around from where he’d been about to enter the bathroom. His hair hangs around his face, in need of a good brushing, but it doesn’t hide his expression of hesitation nearly well enough, “I… wasn’t really sure you were ready for that again.”

Lance makes a noise like a buzzer in a game show, “Wrong answer. Try again.”

“What? Lance-”

“Ehhrrrrr.” Keith’s hiding something, keeping it locked away deep down just like Lance

used to, like he _does,_ but if Lance can brave his soul to this man, by god he can return the favor.

“I wanted to take things slow.”

“Ehhrrrrr.”

“Fine, Lance I was…” He takes a deep breath, runs his fingers through his hair, glances

down at the floor and then back up at Lance, “I was uh.”

“You can do it. I believe in you. Words are hard, but you got this.” Lance is… angry. He doesn’t know why, but maybe it’s because he’s kind of scared.

Not kind of. He’s scared. And when he gets scared, he gets mean. This all kind of feels like Keith is pulling away from him and that’s somehow the most terrifying thing in the world in that moment. He… doesn’t want to lose him. This. Them. Whatever they are. He’s the man that Lance can go to about his bad memories and bad dreams and his fears about being the villain of this particular story. He can express his doubts and there’s always an interesting conversation to be had and when something good happens it’s Keith he wants to tell, has been Keith for _months_ now.

Irritation flashes across Keith’s face, “I was afraid that you just wanted me for sex, alright? To experiment with your sexuality and see what you actually wanted.”

“First off, we established we were going to do this thing without labels. You wanted that. You were the one who said it was good that it was just sex a few weeks ago.” They’ve gone well beyond this being just sex, the both of them, and Lance is aware that Keith is aware of that. They’d entered the dangerous grounds of a real things, actual feelings, attachments. God, obviously it’s beyond sex, considering they hadn’t even been _having_ any.

“I know that!”

“Then why are you being like this?” Lance prods, exasperated, “Keith I like you dude! Like, I really like you! So what the fuck is your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem.” Keith refuses to look at him now, edging toward the bathroom. He’s trying to escape, trying to push this conversation off like it doesn’t have to happen, but Lance isn’t going to let him. He’s not taking the easy way out this time. “There’s no problem.”

“Obviously there is! I like men, Keith, I’m not using you to experiment!”

It kind of stings, now that Lance thinks about it. That Keith thinks so little of him. He’s been kind of falling for this guy, this man, and now he’s telling Lance that he thought it was all just a lie to get him into bed? Harsh, “Why would you even think that anyway? Do you really believe I’d be that… that… awful?”

“I don’t know why I thought that, just drop it, alright?” Keith halfway covered by the tile wall and Lance can only see one of his arms gesture angrily.

“I can’t drop it!” Lance’s voice is raised now, and he stalks after Keith, who’d disappeared into the bathroom the second he’d finished speaking, “How am I supposed to drop it? Apparently the guy I’ve been basically living with the past two weeks thinks I’m faking everything to get in his pants. Including the part about being gay, which is just… quite confusing, frankly.”

“ _You_ think it’s confusing?” Keith snaps and Lance draws up short, taking a step back. He’s on the defensive suddenly and he doesn’t know how it got flipped around on him so suddenly. “It wouldn’t be the first time you pulled that kind of shit on me, so I’m sorry I’m being wary.”

Keith looks like he immediately regrets his words, his brow furrowing. His lips purse and he flushes, jerking away from Lance when he realizes how close the other man has gotten to him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lance asks, his voice dangerously low. Keith _has_ been keeping something from him, he _knew_ it. “Keith, tell me.”

And Keith does tell him, the words leaving his lips like they’re being painfully ripped off his tongue, “In high school, at Rizavi’s party freshman year, we both got pretty drunk. You were being nice to me because I didn’t know anyone there, and you were hanging out with me for the majority of the night. Then when we were sitting outside, you… kissed me. I kissed you. I don’t know. But we kissed, for a long time, and when Hunk found us, you told me that you wished you liked boys and hoped I had a nice rest of my night.”

Oh.

God.

That was Keith.

Keith was his first kiss.

Things… click.

Keith was the boy from the party that he’d been pretty convinced was a girl until Hunk had enlightened him all those months ago. Keith was the one.

He has only the fuzziest of memories about that night. His fingers in long black hair, soft lips. Talking to Keith on the couch while they both sipped from red solo cups. Throwing up in Hunk’s mom’s rose bush. He’d been so young. Fourteen, maybe.

“I said that?” Lance croaks.

“You did,” Keith confirms, and he looks so… torn up about it. Lance did this. Lance was the one who had kissed him and said he was straight, it was Lance that Keith was referencing when he made cryptic comments about _homophobia_ , for the love of Christ, “I have… I have spent the last twelve years trying to pretend like that didn’t happen, like I hated you but Lance I-”

His chest is heaving like rough ocean waves and he’s clutching the sink counter as if it’s the only thing keeping him afloat. Lance wants to hold him, to kiss him, to make it all go away but he can’t because he did this. Him and his stupid drunk teenage self.

There’s some kind of decision made, something in Keith’s eyes that’s terribly weary. Keith looks like he’s falling apart, like the wall he’s built around himself and… everyone, is crumbling and it isn’t until this moment that Lance figures out this is about more than just a kiss in high school. This is about so much more than that. It’s years of keeping himself closed off from everyone, keeping himself separate, holding himself at a distance, hurting them before they can hurt him worse and he knows, somehow, he just _knows,_ that Keith is tired. And he just

can’t.

anymore.

“You what?” Lance hears himself say from a distance. He feels like he’s floating outside his own body, like nothing is real. It can’t have only been a few minutes ago that he was thinking about breakfast and wondering if Hunk would make him some extra toast.

“I never hated you.”

This is Keith.No wall. Only Keith. His voice cracks and its raw and real and hurting and pleading but there’s also affection and love there and Lance can’t breathe. He had no idea what he was getting himself into when he started this argument; how had they gotten here, to this point?

“I think I’ve liked you for a long time, actually.” The man has the audacity to _chuckle_ of all things. It’s a scared sound, a hesitant one, awkward and cut short, “No, I know I’ve liked you. For a _long_ , fucking time. And I didn’t realize it until here, until these past couple weeks and I’ve been such a dumbass because I’ve just been pushing it down and pushing it down but the thing is I don’t just _like_ you, Lance, _I love you_ , and I have for _so damn long_ and I didn’t want to freak you out, I couldn’t freak you out, I was freaking myself out because I’ve never done this, I don’t do this, I don’t _care_ about people and I can’t even talk to Shiro about it because… well, yeah. I guess, what I’m trying to say is that I love you, I love you, _I love you_ and I was terrified that you were going to just wake up one morning in the bed next to me and say ‘jokes, I’m actually straight’ and I was going to have to feel like I did for the last twelve years for the rest of my life and I’m not ready for that, I’ll never be ready for that, Lance, I-”

“Oh my god,” Lance whispers. Keith stops talking so abruptly it’s like he slammed into a brick wall mid sentence, “You are such an idiot.”

Keith’s expression crumples into such devastation that Lance continues immediately, though he’s not sure it makes the situation any better.

“You are so fucking dumb,” Lance repeats and he’s laughing, loud belly laughs that hurt his stomach after a moment but he can’t help it because holy _shit,_ “Keith you are the most skittish, terrified of attachment human being ever, and _I_ thought you were going to run when I told _you._ ”

“Told me what?” Keith asks, fear thick in the air.

“That I love you too, you muscular impulsive reckless piece of shit,” Lance cackles, and Keith’s entire face lights up. It’s like the sun rising over the desert, like someone taking their helmet off to reveal a long lost sister, like garlic knots fresh out of the oven baked by a best friend and a tiny gremlin. It’s like Keith, his Keith, the man he loves, happy because of three simple words.

“Only you could insult me while simultaneously telling me something like that.” Keith says, amused now, and Lance grins.

“Telling you something like what?” He wants to hear Keith say it, wants to know that this stupid, stupid man truly understands it, believes it.

“That you,” Keith takes a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing. His look of worry, fear, melts into wonder, “You love me. You love me?”

“I love you.” Lance says, “God, I really, really love you.”

Keith takes one of those massive steps across the room towards him, and sends them crashing into the tile wall of the bathroom. He’s going to have bruises on his shoulder blades, his hips, but he doesn’t mind because Keith’s mouth is on his, his hands shaking as they wrap around Lance’s waist.

They surface for air and Keith pants, “I have a weird question.”

“Fire away Samurai,” Lance groans. He’s hard already and like the first time he and Keith got hot and heavy, he’s not big on the amount of talking happening. They’d just talked enough hadn’t they? They were in love. Love, love, love love, like the kind of thing Lance always wanted but had never actually had before.

“Wanna make this official?”

It could sound cheesy, could sound so unromantic and odd, but it doesn’t. It’s breathy and sexy and punctuated by movement of Keith’s hips that has Lance fighting for control of his own body. Yep. This was definitely love alright.

“One condition,” Lance grunts, unbuttoning the front of his own shirt. Keith waits for him expectantly, “We have ten minutes until practice starts and if the both of us aren’t smelling like sex when we show up, is it even worth it?”

Keith smiles, and Lance finds that maybe the talking isn’t so bad after all.

Especially if it’s with the guy that you _love._

 

Now:

It’s been three days since he and Keith nearly gave each other mutual heart attacks in the bathroom of Lance’s room.

Three days in which he’d had two wonderful rounds of watching Keith come apart under him. It’s… amazing, actually. How he hadn’t realized the first time just how bad he had it was a fucking miracle.

Keith still refused to let Lance bottom, throwing out the ‘moving slowly’ thing every time Lance asked about it, but he was going to get there, and soon. He was determined. Keith preferred to top and though Lance knew he was fine with switching, Lance still wanted to do what he could to make things as enjoyable as possible for _both_ of them. Which, honestly, is an interesting and exciting change for him. Maybe he is becoming a better person, a better boyfriend, and dare he say it… a better lover? He’s definitely a better flirt, if the looks Keith gives him sometimes in the middle of conversations are anything to go by.

This is what he’s thinking about when he’s eating lunch alone in the cafeteria after training. The team and his boyfriend (his _boyfriend,_ fuck) had already left by the time he’d gotten there- his class had gotten out late and they all had afternoon training sessions. He was planning to stuff his face quickly before he checked up with Shiro (his afternoon class had been cancelled. He’d switched to teaching the humans instead of the mutants after Keith’s outburst and the civilians were all running evac drills today), but Adam sits across from him at the table and says, “You and Keith are a thing now I hear.”

He’s talked to Adam maybe… twice, during the two and a half weeks that they’ve been at the Castle. Not because he’s avoiding it, but because the other man is always busy, and so is Lance. They don’t share any tasks and Shiro takes up most of Adam’s freetime as… well as Keith takes up Lance’s.

“He’s… uh, yeah he’s my boyfriend? I guess.”

“You guess.”

Adam’s gaze burns into him and Lance realizes he’s said something wrong.

“He’s my boyfriend.” Lance says, much more firmly this time and Adam’s eyes narrow.

“You love him?” Adam cuts right to the chase and Lance straightens his spine.

“I do,” Lance shoots back, and Adam frowns, “Look, Adam, this is a pretty new thing for

the both of us. I’m still figuring things out and so is he. But I’m not planning to hurt him, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I am asking.”

“I’m not going to hurt him.”

“Good,” Adam says breezily, leaning back in his chair. “Because if you did, I’d have to

tell Charlie all about how you broke her dad’s heart. And after she destroys you emotionally, I’ll throw you into that canyon you and Keith are so fond of visiting with my bikes. Only after I chop of your dick with my favorite axe, of course.”

Lance swallows.

“Enjoy the rest of your lunch!” Adam says brightly and just like that the spell is broken

and Adam’s back to being the cheery mid thirties dad who loves his kids and his husband with all his heart.

Too bad Lance has the memory of those terrifyingly cold eyes seared into his brain for the rest of eternity.

Good thing he has his training with Hunk later to distract him. He wants his Valentine’s day present to be perfect.

 

Now:

“Happy Valentines Day,” Lance murmurs into Keith’s ear. He mumbles something, still half asleep, but turns, squinting in Lance’s direction.

“Happy wha now?” Keith’s lips turn down in that cute way that they do when he’s confused and Lance doesn’t understand how it’s only been a little over three weeks since they’d started this relationship. Not the official part, though that was an added bonus. He honestly was taking that retroactively, counting everything from the first night they’d slept together until now as part of their saga. He doesn’t think Keith minds. He feels like it should go back even further, considering how long they’d been crushing on each other, but he knows that’s pushing it.

“Valentine’s day,” Lance repeats and Keith’s nose scrunches and little wrinkles appear next to his eyes.

“Shit.”

“I figured you’d forget-”

“Shit, Lance, I didn’t even know it was February.”

“But I got you something anyway.”

“You didn’t,” Keith groans, fully awake now, “You didn’t, I’m sorry Lance, this really isn’t my thing.”

“I figured it wouldn’t be,” Lance says soothingly, “Don’t worry it’s nothing major.”

“Alright,” Keith’s brow furrows. He’s clearly waiting for Lance to pull a box out of his pocket or something, but instead, Lance manifests his lion, letting Blue take her sweet time padding up the bed toward Keith. Keith glances between Lance and his lion, uncertain as to how this is a gift but then Lance says, “Touch her,” and he does.

His eyes glaze over and he gasps. Lance too, loses the breath from his lungs and he tightens his hold on the wall keeping the rest of the team out. He forms a tunnel, a connection with Keith and Keith only, and then he instructs Blue to show him everything that Lance has been feeling over these last couple weeks.

It’s a flood of memories, emotions, thoughts. He tries to slow it, but it slips through his fingers, being broadcast to Keith through his lion, going back, back, back. How for months before he’d finally told Keith he liked him as a friend he’d been trying to impress him, get on his good side, trying to show him that he cared. How uncertain he was about what he wanted. How sure he was that he wanted Keith, though, in some capacity. Realizing that capacity was definitely beyond friendship and more than a little gay. That amazing sex and the cascade of emotion that Lance had felt after and how much he’d wanted to pretend it was nothing, and how impossible it was to do so. The affection that had grown into desire and then a deep ache and a need and a want to be around him, to be there, to make Keith happy and the knowledge that Keith made Lance better too, less uncertain, less dark, uncaring, callous. He made Lance think about a future, a future where maybe he and Keith and Charlie were together and how sometimes Lance let himself hope, just a tiny fraction of hope, that that future might come true. That they might live through this. That he might actually be capable of everything the others tell him he is.

When it’s over, when Blue dissolves back into the cosmic dust or whatever she’s made from, Keith’s wide eyed and shell shocked, his hands clenched into fists at his side. Lance holds his breath for a long moment, afraid that he isn’t going to get the reaction he’d anticipated, but then Keith says hoarsely, “Holy shit, Lance. That was beautiful.”

“You said,” Lance clears his throat and tries again, “You said that you weren’t sure if I returned your feelings. I wanted to show you. Yeah I’m figuring things out still, but I want to figure them out with _you_ and no one else. Do you understand that, Kogane?”

“I think…” Keith says slowly, amazement lighting up his features and it’s an expression that Lance alone gets, something that only he is on the receiving end of, something unique and special, “I think I do.”

 

Now:

“Alright everyone, gather round!” Adam calls and the team shuffles closer, “I want to wish everyone a Happy Valentine’s day. I know we can’t all be in person with the one that we love,” he gestures to Hunk’s hand, in which one of their comm devices is clutched. Long story short, Hunk had wanted to talk to her, they couldn’t form a secure call, but their comms were safe. Allura transported one to Shay, they boosted the range and here they were, “But we’re going to celebrate nonetheless. To a bright future!”

Everyone cheers and the flutes of champagne are handed out. The massive cake sits in the middle of the dining room table in Adam and Shiro’s quarters. It’s three tiers, with whipped cream frosting and strawberries decorating it courtesy of Hunk. Lance’s mouth is watering at the thought of the slice he’s going to devour any moment now. Anyyyyy moment now.

Everyone clinks glasses and takes a solid swig of the drink that none of them would have been able to afford were this not the apocalypse. Lance is still thinking about the cake. Keith and Lance kiss (During which the cake fades to the back of his mind and Keith’s tongue takes over, far too quickly to be healthy. He loves cake. Especially Hunk’s cake. But he loves Keith… more? Impossible.) Adam and Shiro lock lips too, and Hunk blows Shay the sweetest and saddest kiss Lance has ever seen, making it obnoxiously loud. Shay giggles, Pidge and Coran cheer while Matt makes an attempt at a pickup line that Allura shoots down with brutal strength. The girls are with Veronica tonight, who’d volunteered to watch them so that they rest of the team could have their fun.

“To new relationships,” Allura says, raising her glass toward Keith and Lance. Lance finds that he’s blushing furiously, for whatever reason, and he’s glad when Allura moves on, “And old.”

“Old?” Adam jokes, clutching at his heart, “Wow Lura, way to be subtle there.”

“Hey, she was talking about us too!” Shay protests and Adam laughs, already a little pink in the cheeks from the champagne. He, Shiro and Hunk had been in the kitchen all afternoon setting this up, and apparently while there were only two bottles of the bubbly drink on the table now, there had once been three.

“Cut the cake!” Lance calls, back to cake now that Keith’s mouth is no longer on his and Hunk shakes his head, brandishing the knife.

“If you weren’t my best friend-”

“We all want cake Hunk, come on!!” Pidge chimes in, and Hunk relents, passing around massive pieces of fluffy marble deliciousness to each member of the team. Lance digs in immediately, relishing the taste as he moans in pleasure.

“God Hunk, you really outdid yourself this time.”

Keith doesn’t accept his piece, instead setting it down on the table next to him. Hunk shoots him a quizzical look as he passes a slice to Matt, “You heard Lance, it’s good Keith.”

“Whipped cream frosting,” Keith grimaces and Hunk makes a face.

“Shit man, I’m sorry I forgot.”

“Oh come on Keith, it’s just a little bit,” Shiro cajoles from the other side of the room, one arm slung around Adam’s shoulders.

“It’s Valentine's day, Shiro,” Keith protests, “I’d like to be… ya know, not dying later.”

“You’ll be fineeeee.”

“He’s drunk,” Keith sighs only loud enough for Lance to hear and Lance nods sagely, his mouth stuffed full of the best damn food he’s had in a long time.

“He’s drunk, yes, but not wrong.”

“Not you too! The betrayal!” Keith exclaims with mock horror, quite dramatically, Lance might add, but he picks up the cake and takes a hesitant bite, his face twisting a bit as he chews.

“What’s wrong?” Lance raises an eyebrow, “I know lactose intolerance doesn’t work that quickly, you can’t fake it just to have me take care of you all night.”

“No, no it’s not that,” Keith reassures him quickly, “It’s… something tastes funny.”

Hunk overhears this last bit and frowns, “It does? What does it takes like?”

“I don’t know,” Keith says, taking another scoop of the frosting, “It’s just… it’s…”

Now that Keith mentions it, Lance had noticed that the frosting was a little strange. Not a bad strange, but just… different than he’d been expecting. Kind of cinnamony. Makes his tongue feel weird too. Hm.

“Do you guys taste anything off?” Hunk asks the rest of the crew and Shiro immediately answers, “Nope. This is really good Hunk.”

Everyone else though kind of shrugs. Hunk starts to look concerned. Lance turns to ask Keith again if he’s figured it out, and is surprised to find that his boyfriend’s face has gone white.

“Keith?” Lance asks in surprise a split second before the black haired man slaps Lance’s plate out of his hand.

“No one eat any more!” He announces, looking like he’s going to be sick, “There’s power suppressant mixed in with it.”

He’s more confused than alarmed it seems, but Lance is starting to get a bit worried, considering the fact that is vision isn’t quite straight anymore. It’s definitely wobbly, unsteady, drunk, but he’s not drunk so… what?

“That can’t be right,” Hunk argues, clearly upset, his face red and his eyes worried, “I made the cake!”

“But you didn’t make the frosting,” Shiro interjects, and his voice is clear, no trace of the slur that had been in it a moment before.

“Shiro?” Lance tries to ask, but his voice comes out sounding weird. It’s slow. Everything’s kind of slow now that he thinks about it. He’s tired too, so tired, and he has been for the past minute or two he realizes.

“What did you do?” Keith questions, and his voice is coming from a mile away. Lance stumbles, falls, canting to the side in a descent that seems to take years.

Keith catches him, but the rest aren’t so lucky. Hunk goes down, pulling the tablecloth with him. The rest of the cake splashes across the floor in a messy arrow head pattern and Lance thinks that’s the biggest tragedy of this moment. Matt’s passed out in his chair, and Allura’s slumped forward in her seat, her head on her knees. Pidge hit the floor like a limp rag doll and he worries for a second that she’s hit her head, but that anxiety floats away from him on a stream of uncaring that he’s carried down on his back, staring up at the sky that is Keith’s face.

“Takashi?” he hears Adam say, and there’s a thud, a crash. Coran’s down too, somewhere, and Lance thinks that it’s probably Adam at Shiro’s feet, but he doesn’t get a chance to really look because Keith’s patting his cheeks gently, whispering, “Stay with me Lance, come on, stay awake, you’ve got to stay aw-”

His words cut off and Lance drops abruptly to the floor when a prosthetic hand shoots through his field of vision and fastens around Keith’s throat. He’s lifted off the ground, slammed into the wall hard enough for something to crack as Shiro steps over Lance’s fallen body. His finger’s tighten and Keith’s face is starting to turn red, purple and his hands scrabble at Shiro’s grip with a frantic intensity. Lance’s vision fades, his hearing too, but not before Shiro snarls with so much venom it makes Lance feel cold then far too hot, “I should have known you wouldn’t go down that easily.”

And then Lance gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Come follow me on [tumblr!](https://sunandshadowboth.tumblr.com/)


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